


A Symbol of Excellence

by TheArtificialDane



Series: The Brightest Timeline [38]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-10-17 20:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtificialDane/pseuds/TheArtificialDane
Summary: “You’re looking at Miss Gay Tenesse America 2021.” Brooke smiled, pride radiating from him. “The preliminary champion of Nashville.”***"Where Boys Are Boys and Female Impersonation is an Art"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in 2021

“Hey boy!” Vanjie laughed as he crouched down, Riley shooting towards the front door of the house, Vanjie’s backpack still over his shoulder as he only barely managed to stop Riley from escaping. Vanjie had been out with Silky, the two of them prowling The Grove, window shopping and watching boys for Silky, the friends sharing slurpees and chilling in the California sun.

“Hey there.” Vanjie picked Riley up, the little dog wiggling around. “Why you acting lil bro?” Vanjie held Riley out, looking at him. “Didn’t your daddy walk you?” 

Vanjie checked Riley’s paws, Brooke always forgetting to wipe them when they got back, since cats never needed it, but Riley was completely clean, not a speck of dust on him. 

“What the..” Vanjie looked around the entryway, one wall in the small space filled with photos that Courtney had put up, their coat closet on the other side. He hadn’t gotten a single text or call, Brooke’s shoes lined up against the wall, as well as another pair he didn’t recognise.

“Brock?” Vanjie yelled into the house, but he didn’t get a reply. “Yo Brock! Where you at?!” Vanjie waited a beat, but there was still no answer. Their apartment was of a decent size, pure luxury for L.A, but it had never been a problem before for Brooke to hear him, Vanjie’s voice easily carrying to every single room.

Vanjie put Riley down, the dog not looking like he was distressed, or like he needed to pee, so Vanjie toed off his shoes and dumped his bag before he walked into the apartment where he finally picked up on something, the faint sound of talking coming from the living room.

“Brock?” Vanjie grabbed the door handle, the door usually never locked or even closed because of the cats, but as Vanjie pressed down, it opened without any problems.

Of all the things Vanjie had expected to come home to, what met him was definitely not it.

Brooke was standing in the middle of the room, his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, the other one holding his hand. They were both looking into the full length mirror that Vanjie recognised from their drag clothes, neither of the two men even noticing he had walked in. 

All the furniture has been moved, the coffee table propped up against the wall, their plants stacked on the other side. Henry was napping on the couch, the cat suddenly king of the mountain of things that had been stacked on it. 

“Pay attention.” Brooke moved Daniel’s hand.

“Sorry.” Daniel smiled. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

They started to dance, Daniel counting quietly, a verse of one, two, three, one, two, three, falling from his lips while Brooke hummed. Vanjie vaguely recognised what they were doing as a waltz, the only reason he knew it the movie “Shall we Dance” with Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez that had been one of his mother's favorites. 

They looked gorgeous together, regal even though Vanjie could see that they were still practising. Brooke was wearing a low pair of heels Vanjie had never seen before, the material a sparkling silver. Daniel was leading his boyfriend around with a confidence and ease that shouldn’t be possible when your partner was a 6’3 man, their steps taking them to every corner of the room. Brooke’s back was curved, his head leaning backwards in what looked to be beyond uncomfortable, but still so very grateful to watch.

“What’s your feet placement?” 

Daniel stopped, holding Brooke completely still. “I’m doing it right.” 

Brooke glanced down, Daniel’s feet pointing slightly inward, and it was then that Vanjie realised Daniel was also wearing strange footwear, a pair of shiny black leather shoes on his feet. “In what universe is that a fourth position?”

“And what, pray tell, is a fourth position then?”

Brooke moved, nudging Daniel’s feet with the tip of his toe so his feet pointed outward instead.

Daniel lauged. “God, you’re such a ballerina.” They broke apart, Brooke straightening his back.

“Don’t give me attitude.” Brooke smiled, shaking his hands out, like they were about to cramp up. “We have to deliver a completely clean and technically correct show." 

“I get that we want to maximize our points.” They moved back to the middle of the room, Vanjie still watching, not even realised that he had pulled the door ajar, almost hiding behind it, “but do you really think the judges in St. Louis Missouri are going to know the inner workings on standard ballroom?”

"Maybe not,” Brooke shrugged. Holding his hand up for Daniel to take. “But I do."

“From the top?”

“You read my mind.” Brooke smiled.

“What y’all doing?” 

Vanjie opened the door, pretending he hadn’t been creeping for the last 5 minutes. Daniel and Brooke breaking apart, both of them turning to look at Vanjie.

“Jose!” Brooke smiled brightly, truly looking and acting like he hadn’t noticed his boyfriend, and if Vanjie was realistic, he probably hadn’t, Brooke often completely lost from the world when he danced. 

“Hey.” Daniel waved, the mischievous ever present smile playing on his lips. He dumped down on the couch, Henry waking from his slumber, his tail standing up before he jumped to the floor, the cat clearly very offended that anyone had dared to interrupt him. 

“I didn’t realise you’d be home yet.” Brooke quickly wiped his hands on his sweats, walking over and touching Vanjie’s shoulders, pulling him in for a quick, but sweet, kiss.

“It a problem?” Vanjie looked up and up and up, what he had just seen reminding him once again how much shorter than Brooke he was.

“No! No. Of course not.” Brooke shook his head. He leaned against the wall, unbuckling his shoe. “Sorry we’re using the entire living room.”

The living room was pretty much Brooke’s domain, the bookshelves filled with books that had actually survived Brooke’s negligent treatment of them, his boyfriend leaving trails of paper behind no matter where he traveled. “Daniel had time to practice out of the blue, so I didn’t have a rehearsal space rented”

“It’s pretty lucky you guys have such a nice apartment.” Daniel took a drink of water.

“It cool.” Vanjie shrugged, before he looked over at Brooke. “Why you wearing grandma heels?”

“They fit my dress.” Vanjie raised an eyebrow, and Brooke laughed, pulling at his sweats. “Well, I’m obviously not wearing it right now.”

“You always make fun of me when I rock a Soju size,” Vanjie showed a tiny gap between his fingers, “out on the town.”

“I don’t make fun of you,” Brooke smiled, “Asia does.”

“But you laugh.” Vanjie took the shoe from Brooke, holding it up.

“Because Asia is funny.” Brooke straightened back up, “Also, it’s not a grandma heel.”

“Not just.” Daniel laughed.

“It’s a custom made ballroom shoe.”

Vanjie turned the shoe over in his hand, not really believing what Brooke was saying, but his boyfriend just continued. 

“It took forever to talk the company into making them in my size, but they’re regulation to the T.”

“Regulation?” Vanjie raised an eyebrow. “Okay what the fuck is going on? Why you care about ballroom shoes?”

“Remember when I went to Nashville?”

“Yes?” 

It was important for Brooke to do individual bookings, to have something that was just his, and the fact that they also worked apart had benefited both of them countless times. They had reached the point in their relationship where the fans no longer tagged them constantly in single photos of the other, but Vanjie had still seen a few photos from the booking, both from Brooke’s own account, but also from a few extra enthusiastic fans.

“You’re looking at Miss Gay Tenesse America 2021.” Brooke smiled, pride radiating from him. “The preliminary champion of Nashville.”

Vanjie dropped the shoe, the world standing still, before he kicked back into gear.

“You’re WHAT?!”

///

“Jose, come on,” Brooke touched the door handle to the bedroom, the thing locked and not budging an inch. “Don’t be mad.”

“Fuck you!!”

Brooke groaned, Vanjie’s voice traveling through the wood with no trouble at all. Vanjie had exploded in a New Year worthy display of fireworks, his anger like a fireball. Daniel had left the apartment the moment Vanjie had run out of the livingroom, Brooke whispering a quick sorry, the sound of the bedroom door slamming so loud it could be heard in the entire apartment. 

“Don’t be so loud.” Brooke sighed. “You’re annoying the neighbors.”

“Who gives a FUCK!!”

“I do,” Brooke murmured to himself, rubbing his eyes, frustration growing in his own body. He sat down, his back against the wall. He could hear Vanjie on the other side, the faint sounds and yells telling Brooke he was screaming into his pillow. 

Vanjie had taken a few anger management classes, his boyfriend a whole lot better at going for a walk or even beating up the punching bag they had purchased for cases just like this, but sometimes, Vanjie still got so angry he couldn’t do anything but scream until it was all out.

Brooke knocked the door with his knuckles.

“WHAT?!”

Brooke waited for a minute, listening. “Can I go do dishes?”

“I don’t give a SHIT what you do!”

Brooke rolled his eyes. He had taken his phone from the living room, Daniel looked at him with disbelieve in his eyes at how calm he was, but he had been down the road before, and even though Vanjie was loud, it was just a part of him being him. Brooke opened his work email, working through the mountain that always seemed to pile up no matter how hard he worked, about 15 minutes passing by before there was live once again.

“... Brock?” Brooke could hear Vanjie, the volume of his voice telling him he was right behind the door. “You still there?”

“I am.”

Brooke looked up, just to see the door open, Vanjie coming out with a look of embarrassment on his face, his hair a mess on top of his head, his eyes a little red.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Vanjie sat down next to him, leaning against the wall, but he didn’t look at Brooke.

Brooke continued with his email, Vanjie inching closer and closer. Brooke has had cats his entire life, and if there was one thing that had taught him, it was that you can’t rush someone into doing what you want. It felt stupid, but their fights had improved so very much ever since Brooke had started treating Vanjie like a cat, even though he knew he could never ever tell anybody, least of all his boyfriend.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Vanjie’s voice was small, almost a whisper, at least for him.

Brooke looked up from his phone. “About the prelim?”

“No, about the shoes.” Vanjie rolled his eyes. “Fuck you of course I’m asking about the prelim.”

Brooke raised an eyebrow, “Do you need a run around the block?”. If there was one thing that never worked on Vanjie, ever, it was asking him to check his attitude, but the temptation was still great, and it was hard to hold his tongue, the venom sneaking into the jabs he couldn’t keep to himself.

“I hate you so much.” Vanjie groaned, pulling his legs up and hiding his head.

Brooke sighed, ever so gently putting his hand on Vanjie’s back. “I didn’t think it was important.”

Vanjie shot up, his head held high, but he didn’t push Brooke’s hand aside. “Not important that you’re competing in the biggest pageant for female impersonators?” 

Brooke winched, the critique seeming very fair when Vanjie put it like that. 

“Not important that you won a fucking preliminary, and I wasn’t there? Not important that you didn’t even tell me you tried to qualify-”

“I didn’t know if I would win.”

“Bitch please. You’re Brooke Lynn Hytes. You eat competitions for breakfast. You qualified in Tennessee, that’s the toughest state out there.”

“Which is why I wasn’t sure if I would win.” It was the truth, the competition in Nashville the fiercest in America, which was exactly why Brooke had needed to qualify there, so much of his pageantry and his drag career so deeply rooted in the traditions of Nashville.

“I wouldn’t want you to take time off for nothing.”

“That ain’t for nothing.” Vanjie moved into Brooke’s side, Brooke moving his arm instantly, allowing Vanjie to settle under it, his boyfriend not caring that he was kinda sweaty from practice. “I wanna cheer you on, win or lose, I come first, second and last in your fanclub.”

Brooke snorted, the statement so very like Vanjie. “It’s not very diligent of you to miss the qualifications then.” Brooke ran a hand through Vanjie’s hair, taking the opportunity to do it now that the hair was messy anyway.

“The fuck does diligen mean?” Vanjie looked up at Brooke, his expression one of pure confusion.

Brooke laughed. “It doesn’t matter.” Brooke kissed Vanjie’s hair, the two of them sitting together for a little while, Vanjie’s breathing fully returning to normal. 

“So…” Vanjie fiddled with the edge of Brooke’s sweat, his fingers dancing over the skin of his thigh. “That dance y’all was practicing? What that for?”

“Preliminary talent.” Brooke shrugged. “I figured waltz was different.”

“It something,” Vanjie smiled, the mischief back in his eyes, “that’s for fucking sure.”


	2. Chapter 2

Vanjie had never watched Brooke get ready for a competition or an event, their teams working completely separately for every major thing they attended, and while he had heard the rumors, had seen Steve sigh deeply and Courtney roll her eyes, Vanjie had never actually experience Brooke in full prep mode.

Vanjie loved his boyfriend, he really did, but every time he asked Brooke anything related to Miss Gay America, like what he was doing for talent, what he’d wear or who he was bringing, Brooke didn’t actually answer, either giving him some halfassed nonsense, avoiding the question entirely or even taking Vanjie to bed to distract him. 

Vanjie hadn’t noticed at first, getting his ass eat more than enough to distract him for days, but as Brooke left for the studio without him yet again, or made calls to strangers he couldn’t even get the names of, he started to put the puzzle pieces together and he couldn’t help but feel hurt. 

Vanjie was terrible at keeping secrets, so he couldn’t really blame Brooke for keeping him in the dark, knew why exactly why he wasn’t telling him anything, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow.

Keeping secrets secret, was something he had worked on and had even gotten better at, not telling anyone about All Stars a test that he had almost managed to ace, but it made sense why Brooke didn’t want to tell him specifics about the pageant he was entering.

Miss Gay America was the fiercest but also the most ruthless competition out there, and Vanjie had been backup dancing in enough pageants to know that it only took one single competitor set out to destroy you, one single person to undo months of hard work, and Brooke had truly worked hard. 

Alexis had told Vanjie stories of contestants that had shown up in the same gowns to destroy a better competitors chances of winning, had heard of cd’s getting switched out and dancers getting bribed to either make mistakes or change team, so it made sense that Brooke wanted nothing about his work out anywhere, his own social media quiet as the grave.

The fact that Brooke was preparing for a competition wasn’t all bad however, since Vanjie had found one way he could truly be there for Brooke. 

They had always had a very healthy sex life, it was hard not to when your partner was as attractive as Vanjie found Brooke, but it had kicked into high gear, even for them, as Brooke needed a way to release all the emotions that swirled under his skin. Vanjie melted whenever Brooke came home, annoyed, or even pissed off, and ready to take it out on his ass, Vanjie jumping in his arms with joy. Sex with a Brooke that growled and sneered, that took and demanded without any of his anger being directed at Vanjie, was the stuff dreams was made of.

The first time it had happened, Vanjie had floated around on a cloud of sexual bliss, everyone at Mickey’s making fun of him when he showed up late to his booking, all soft and giggly and dopey, almost forgetting his routine, Morgan nearly choking from laughter and howling about the dicking of a lifetime when Brooke had shown up to see the show, and he had realised exactly why Vanjie was acting strange.

The sex was great, but it was just good, if not better, when Brooke was anxious or worried, even sadness collecting itself in his boyfriend’s brow a time or two when something didn’t go according to plan, and Vanjie had felt his heart swell every single time he got to soothe and calm, whenever he got to be the rock in the stormy ocean of Brooke’s perfectionism. It didn’t happen often, but Vanjie treasured each time, enjoyed how he got to be the one that was the big spoon, loved pouring cups of tea and taking it to the couch, catching the cats on the way and dumping them as Brooke curled up, head in his lap, to watch whatever dumb movie he wanted.

Time had passed by in a blurry of bookings, rehearsals, TV shoots and date nights, and then suddenly, one morning, Brooke had shared over breakfast that he was going to San Francisco for his final fittings. Vanjie had nearly dropped his jaw, Brooke snorting at the complete surprise that had been painted in his features.

It had taken three days of begging and a round of a very strategically placed cocksucking, before Vanjie had been allowed to come along to San Francisco.

“Do you have everything?”

Vanjie was tying his shoes, Brooke standing in the door of their apartment, the black and white Versace jacket Vanjie had gotten him over a year ago on his body.

“Ay ay captain.” Vanjie looked up and smiled. It was early morning, Brooke easily waking up at 6.30, while it had taken Vanjie a whole lot longer to get out of bed.

Brooke grabbed Vanjie’s suitcase, lifting it in one arm, and Vanjie smiled a little at how easily Brooke did it.

“And this is all you’re bringing?” Brooke raised an eyebrow, and Vanjie was just about to defend himself, the suitcase even a medium and not his normal extra large for traveling. “Are you sure you have enough? We’re going to be gone for two entire days.”

“I already left half of my good colognes at home. You want me to smell bad? We ain’t going to no fucking jungle camp site. What kind of homophobic bullshit -”

“Jose. Calm down” Brooke was smirking, a shit eating grin on his face, and Vanjie when he realised that he was teasing him.

“Fuck you.” Vanjie flipped Brooke off. “I’m a light pack ho, I only got that and my backpack.” Vanjie reached behind himself, slapping the Gucci backpack he had attempted to pack with entertainment for the road.

“Just hurry up.” Brooke left, Vanjie hearing him run down the metal stairs that he had been up and down all morning. “Hey! Steve! This is the last of it!”

Steve had arrived last night, Brooke’s manager and best friend flying in from Chicago to drive them, and while Vanjie hadn’t understood yesterday, he could now see exactly why, Brooke distracted and scattered in a way Vanjie couldn’t remember ever seeing him before. Vanjie had eaten breakfast in the kitchen door, finishing his bowl of cereal as he watched Brooke run back and forth, packing makeup, jewelry and wigs that Vanjie had never seen before, the entire thing almost feeling like Brooke was moving out, but getting ready for Miss Gay America wasn’t a joke, Brooke needing a minimum of 10 outfits for the competiton.

Vanjie finished tying his shoes, passing Brooke on the stairs as his boyfriend rushed back inside to say goodbye to the cats, Jason coming by later to walk Riley.

Steve was packing the car, the man playing a regular game of Tetris as everything had to fit into the trunk of the car they had rented for the drive. Steve was a professional, and Vanjie smiled to himself as he saw how he treated each wig and potentially breakable thing with the deepest care.

“Oh! There you are.” Steve smiled. “The dumbest, yet bravest among us.” Steve closed the trunk.

Vanjie stopped walking. “Who the fuck you calling dumb?” Vanjie flicked the shadow of his cap, the autumn sun bright.

“You?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “You’re willingly going on a six hour roadtrip with a pre-pageant Brooke.” He opened the backdoor, and Vanjie saw that Steve had built a little nest for him, a pillow to sit on already there. “How does that meme go? You’re braver than a US marine.”

Vanjie snorted. He had never understood why Brooke had been so bad, or rather completely uninterested in social media before they met, but as he had gotten to know more and more of Brooke’s friends, more and more of the people he considered family, it made sense.

“I ain’t brave for shit.” Vanjie walked over, dumping his bag on the floor of the car, realising with a smile that Steve had made sure to rent a car with a DVD player attached to the seat in front of him. 

“He my boyfriend. Where he goes, I go.” 

“Isn’t that romantic.” Steve laughed, and Vanjie had a moment of pure clarity of how lucky he was that Steve was married. 

Steve was attractive in the exact rugged lumberjack fashion that Brooke used to find irresistable. It was still the type of man he sometimes looked at in bars, big dudes with big arms and big beards the only types that could make Brooke go all sweet and giggle. At one time, Vanjie had tried to grow a beard, but Brooke had just laughed at it, and he looked back at the pictures, he had to admit that the moustache hadn’t been the best choice. 

It had nagged at him for years, until Vanjie realised that it didn’t matter if Brooke sometimes looked after guys that was different than him in every way. He’d never touch, and Vanjie had learned that he could make Brooke just as giggly and sweet, even if he was half his size.

“If we’re lucky.” Steve leaned against the door, looking down at Vanjie that had taken his seat. “He might even behave because you’re going with us.”

“Behave?” Vanjie huffed. “Why you acting? Brooke ain’t needing no one to tell him how to behave, he a grown ass ma-” 

“Steve!” Vanjie was cut off, Brooke calling from the top of the stairs. “Why are you not in the car?” Brooke ran down, taking the steps two at a time. “We were supposed to leave three minutes ago!”

“Sorry!” Steve yelled back.

“The fuck that mattters, three minutes ain’t shi-”

“Sssh.” Steve cut Vanjie off.

“Three minutes can make or break a first impression, and three minutes aren’t just three, What if there’s traffic? What if something goes wrong."

“We’re leaving now Brock, hold your horses.” Steve held up a hand, Brooke grabbing the door to the front seat and getting in, just as Steve looked down at Vanjie. “See?”

“Steve! Four minutes and counting!”

“Good luck withstanding hurricane Hytes. You’re gonna need it.” Steve smiled and closed the door, Vanjie sitting in the backseat of a road trip he was suddenly unsure if he even wanted to be on.

///

Brooke hated rental cars. They were never comfortable, always too small and if they weren’t, they were so expensive he always felt a little ill paying for the gas. It was however, also the only way his anxiety allowed him to travel with prestyled wigs for an event as important as Miss Gay America. 

They were taking everything to San Francisco, running through the last of the fittings and finalising everything with Jacklyn, the designer behind Dallas Coulter and one of the people Brooke trusted the most in the world. He had paid her to take the trip down to Memphis, her and an assistant driving everything to the hotel, where Brooke had paid her to stay the entire week as well. It was a big expense, but one he knew would be so absolutely worth it.

Brooke had tried to concentrate on his emails, he really had, his computer open on his lap and connected to the 4G from his home, but for the last 30 miles, every two minutes or so, he had gotten distracted by Vanjie moving around in the backseat, a spike of anxiety hitting him each time as he couldn’t help but imagine the horror scenario that Vanjie knocked something over.

Brooke was answering sponsor emails, the fact that he had been on Drag Race and his previous track record from previous pageants meaning that it hadn’t been hard to find people, businesses and organisations that were willing to give him money. What had been hard, however, were finding sponsors that not only understood how big of a deal this specific run at Miss Gay America actually was, but who were also willing to put their money where they mouths were.

Brooke hadn’t competed in a serious pageant, in any pageant, since 2017. He had shown up for Miss Continental, performed all of his duties, had walked the catwalks and done the interviews, but he hadn’t been on stage as a competitor since he had only landed First Alternate at Miss Gay America 2018. Second place combined with a win in the evening gown category was fine, but he wasn’t a second place contestant, wasn’t someone who could come back and place worse than he previously had, so it was the crown, or nothing at all.

Brooke had meant to get back to it sooner, but suddenly, the calender read 2021, and he was competing for Miss Gay America 2022. He didn’t regret the years that had passed, didn’t regret a single second he had spent on winning season 11 of RuPaul’s Drag Race, didn’t regret Vanjie and how his life had taken a turn from never having a boyfriend to moving in with him and willing changing his plans around tour dates and Vanjie’s run on All Stars. He wouldn’t do anything differently, but still, he felt unease seep into his bones as he worked through his mailbox.

He only needed to shoot off confirmation on one of his biggest sponsor deals, Swiss Chalet of all people willing to pay for his hotel accommodations if they got mentioned no matter how he placed. Brooke had put together a big crew, relying on former coworkers from Truckadero to connect him to some of the best gay talent you could find, Brooke making sure everyone he worked with were at least in some way connected to the LGBT+ community. Brooke had always strived to be his own boss, but Nina had taught him more than he was willing to admit, about the responsibility of creating workplaces and fair working conditions for his fellow gays. He needed a nearly ridiculous amount of rooms, two for the first three days, with four people staying in each, and four for the last two, eight dancers flying out for the chance that he had made the top ten, and got to perform his production talent on stage.

“Do you know when Jon is coming?” Brooke looked over at Steve. Jon was someone Brooke was eternally grateful for, his best friends husband one of the most patient people he knew. “Does he need a room?” 

“He’s only checking in for the show.” Steve smiled. “He learned his lesson.”

Brooke snorted, a blush rising in his cheeks. He had truly not meant to snap at Jon in 2017, had not meant to yell over the fact that Jon had thrown out the brand new disposable razors Brooke had gotten to minimize the risk of razor burn, the man simply thinking they were old, but he still had, and it had taken longer for them to be okay again, even after Brooke had apologized, than he was proud of admitting.

“He’s excited to see the show.” 

Brooke smiled. Steve knew him so very well, his friend sensing how he still got embarrassed whenever it was brought up. “I’m putting him down as not attending then.”

Brooke finished the email, sending it off with a quiet sigh, the fact that the deal was finalised saving him over a thousand dollars from his own personal funds.

///

It was their third hour on the road, when Brooke felt the hit to his back. 

They had stopped for lunch, Brooke lavishing Vanjie with all the attention he hadn’t given him in the car, showering him in kisses and even putting his hand in his back pocket.

Brooke had laid awake, unsure if it was smart to bring Vanjie along, but it had been nice to have his boyfriend with him as they eat, Vanjie somehow talking him into a game of tag amongst the cars while Steve had scouted the options for lunch, the restless energy completely burned out of Brooke as they got back on the road.

Brooke felt it again, his knees hitting against the glove compartment this time since the kick was so hard. He winched, touching his kneecap before he growled.

“Jose, stop kicking me.” Vanjie had slept for most of the morning, his boyfriend moving every once in a while, but it had been fine. “You’re not a child.”

“I ain’t kicking no one.” Vanjie huffed.

“Then why do I feel your feet on my back?” Brooke looked over his shoulder, and just as he had expected, Vanjie was looking back at him, a grin on his face.

“I’m hungry.” 

“You’re not hungry.” At the last stop, Vanjie had only gotten a juice, even though Brooke had told him that they weren’t taking a break until dinner, his boyfriend turning his nose up at the snacks that had been on selection at the gas station they stopped at. 

“I gotta pee.”

Brooke raised an eyebrow, and Vanjie sighed. “Fine. I lied. I’m good.” 

Vanjie crossed his arms, and leaned back in his seat, his knees once again hitting the back of Brooke’s chair, and for a moment, Brooke felt bad that Vanjie was stuffed in the back of the car, but he was the one who wanted to come, the one who insisted on tagging along. Brooke had told him over and over again that he wouldn’t enjoy it, but Vanjie had kept at it, Brooke’s resolve cracking on day three.

Brooke was just about to turn his attention back to his computer, when Vanjie spoke up again. “I’m bored.”

“It’s a 6 hour roadtrip. What did you expect?” 

“I ain’t ever roadtripped nowhere with my mama. How was I supposed to know it’s this fucking dull.”

“At least you never went with your siblings. That’s the true experience, fighting for room on the backseat.” 

“Back here I only gotta fight these wigs honey.”

Brooke smiled. “Didn’t you bring your phone baby?” 

“I did, but I’ma out of lives on Candy Crush.” Vanjie sighed, before he lit up, his head suddenly popping in between the seats, startling Brooke and causing him to pull back. “Let’s play a game!”

Steve laughed. “Didn’t you just say that you have never gone on a road trip before?” Steve took a sip of his coffee, the giant Starbucks cup also paid for on Brooke’s card. 

“I’ve seen movies bitches. I know a game or two.”

“So what game are you thinking?” Brooke closed his computer halfway, Vanjie actually catching his attention. 

“The quiet game?” Steve smirked.

“Fuck you!” Vanjie laughed. “We already played the quiet game with your boring grandma asses the entire trip so far.”

Brooke raised an eyebrow, looking over at Steve. Usually, they were pretty quiet when they traveled together, Steve controlling the music while Brooke either worked, slept or on rare occasions caught up with his best friend. “So what are you suggesting?” 

“We could play zitch dog?” Vanjie smiled. “Loser buys whatever the winner wants at the hotel.”

“Because there’s no way that could go wrong.” Steve smiles. “I’m in.”

“Explain the rules baby.” Brooke kissed Vanjie’s cheek, his boyfriend still just a head sticking out between the seats. “We’re listening.”


	3. Chapter 3

Vanjie was curled in on himself in the backseat of the car, his spine curved as his feet were swung over each side of Brooke’s seat. Steve had won the zitch dog by a landslide, Vanjie rage quitting when Steve had spotted the fifth dog in a row, his protests of how half his view was blocked by wigs not landing at all. Brooke had just enjoyed watching the argument, Vanjie banging into the wall of Steve’s everlasting patience over and over again until he had given up with a yell that the bet wasn’t even fucking on no more.

Vanjie wiggled his foot a little. The thumb that had been running gently up and down his shin had stopped, Brooke for some reason no longer paying attention to the legs that was resting on his chest. Vanjie closed his game, only now noticing that Brooke and Steve were talking.

“-and the art of female impersonating and continuing that tradition.”

“Well done.” 

Vanjie could hear the smile in Steve’s voice. Vanjie didn’t move a muscle, his ears on stilts as Steve continued. 

“Do you think a titleholder should be single or in a relationship?”

“That’s a joke.” Brooke sounded offended. 

“Swear on my life.”

“That can’t be an actual question.” 

Vanjie looked in the rear view mirror, Brooke looking over at his best friend.

“They asked that three years ago.” Steve was halfway holding a stack of cards, his hands still on the steering wheel.

“What do you even say to that?” Brooke groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Say something about commitment.” Steve smiled. “How having a partner has made you more diligent?”

“And what if the judges don’t agree with that?” Brooke sighed, and Vanjie felt the caress start up again, Brooke doing long sweet strokes up and down his leg. “What if it’s better to be single during your reign?” Vanjie could hear that Brooke was spiraling, and he took his headphones off.

“Well, if the judges think that.” Steve smirked. “I guess you’d have to break up with Jose.”

“The fuck did you just say?!” Vanjie shot up, not even noticing that he kicked Brooke in the chest, his boyfriend groaning in pain as Vanjie parkoured his way in between the seats. 

“What kind of advice you walking around giving him?!”

“Hey there.” Steve laughed, clearly not reacting to Vanjie’s anger at all, while Brooke was still rubbing his chest. “I didn’t realise you were listening.” 

“Seems like I ain’t got no choice bitch.”

“No choice?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Are you acting on your voyeuristic tendencies without a choice?”

“Voyage? The fuck- It like that sex thing?” Vanjie huffed, trying to keep his ball of rage down. “Ain’t nothing sexy about hearing you bitches talking about us breaking up, what kind of bullshit are yo-”

“Steve. Shut up.” Brooke looked at his best friend, a small smile on his lips. “Babe, I’m obviously not going to break up with you.” Brooke sighed. “Even if interview is my worst category.” 

“You better not cause I know where you live.” Vanjie crossed his arms.

“I know you know.” Brooke raised an eyebrow, a moment of confusion clear on his face. “You live there too?”

“Yeah I fucking do.” Vanjie smiled, happy at the reminder, the last of his rage ebbing out of him as Brooke kissed his cheek.

“Is everyone done freaking out?” Steve looked in the mirror, and Vanjie nodded, a short, crude one, but it was apparently all Steve needed. “Do you want the next question Brookie?” 

Brooke nodded. Steve released the wheel to switch the card, but Vanjie swooped in attempting to snatch them up, however, Brooke was faster.

“Let me do that.” Vanjie reached for the cards, but Brooke only held them further away.

“Babe, you’re in the backseat.”

“Whenever has loud ever been a problem for me? I could shout from here to Vancouver.” Vanjie smiled. “Sides, it ain’t safe for shit to drive and read.”

Brooke looked back and forth, clearly weighing the pros and cons, and for a minute, Vanjie believed he had overstepped, but then, Brooke handed him the cards. 

“Do you think the swimsuit round is,” Vanjie stopped for a second, not recognising the word at all. “De… deragotu… dragatotory?”

“Derogatory?” 

“That.” Vanjie pointed the cards at Brooke, a smile on his face. “So what you say hot stuff?”

///

“Are you confident about the length?”

Brooke took a step back, looking at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a stunning piece in creamy blush, the delicate stoening of it truly what an elevated Miss Gay America would wear.

“It’s perfect.”

Brooke met Jacklyn’s eyes in the mirror, and he couldn’t help but smile. He had worked with Jacklyn of Dallas Coulter for years, the woman his favorite designer from the first moment he had tried one of her pieces. They understood each other, completely and deeply, Jacklyn just as committed to doing things right as he was, as his entire team was. 

Brooke hadn’t even thought of it, but as they walked into the showroom and workshop, Jacklyn had yelled in joy over seeing Vanjie for the first time, catching his boyfriend in a hug that Vanjie returned with just as much enthusiasm. He hadn’t realised how much they had heard about each other, the long hours of designing and fittings meaning Brooke actually shared his personal life with Jacklyn, while Vanjie always wanted to hear everything about his trips to San Francisco.

They had never worked together, and they most likely wouldn’t, Dallas Coulter a brand of perfected pageantry and stunning gowns that were so unlike the Real Girl Stomp the Runway Rawness Vanjie preferred in his designs.

Brooke moved a little, a deep satisfaction filling him as the hem was the perfect one and a half regulation inch over the floor. He had tried his talent dress on earlier, the snowy white fabric, the feathered skirt and the crystal stoning all absolutely perfect. 

Everything he wore had long sleeves, elegant cutouts hiding as much of his hands as possible, since it deducted points whenever tattoos could be seen.

///

Vanjie had always known Brooke was stunning, his boyfriends attractiveness a fact that had been drilled into his skull ever since he had seen him from a distance at the very first pageant.

Seeing him at a fitting, however, was something Vanjie had never known that he needed.

Brooke had confiscated Vanjie’s phone the moment they had arrived, stuffing it into the backpocket of his jeans, and Vanjie could see why, the workshop a wonderland of treasures and trinkets to explore. Vanjie had expected to be bored the entire way through, that emotion the only one he usually felt at his own fittings, but instead, he was captivated, the careful consideration and the amount of attention that was paid to every tiny detail drawing him in and keeping his attention razor focused as he watched Brooke get in and out of one stunning outfit after the other.

///

“Hey!” 

Brooke was pulled out of the near trance-like state he had been in, his thoughts completely wrapped up in whenever or not he should call Jacklyn to have more stones added to his third look, the food on his plate still sitting there just as he had left it. 

“Baby cakes.” Vanjie clicked his chopsticks together. “Pay attention.” 

Brooke looked over at Vanjie. “... What did you just call me?”

Steve had emptied the car, dropping it off on his way to the airport, the costumes now officially left behind and out of Brooke’s control, the competition suddenly a whole lot closer, even if details still had to be finalized.

“So you actually listening?” Vanjie raised a brow, a smile playing on his lips, and Brooke returned it. “We on a date night. Keep those eyes up here.”

Brooke had allowed Vanjie to pick the place they went for dinner, which meant that they were eating sushi. Vanjie had wiggled his brow and said he’d behave, had pushed his ass against Brooke’s on purpose as they waited for their Uber, but the promise had been broken the minute they had stepped into the restaurant. 

Vanjie had a regular mountain in front of him, the other man happily eating his way through his third round of the exact same tempura shrimp sushi. Brooke would never understand how Vanjie could enjoy the same flavor over and over again, his own menu a mix of everything the restaurant offered, but no matter how he tried, Vanjie wouldn’t even entertain the idea of trying his mixes, and after four years, Brooke had come to accept it, no matter how much he didn’t get it.

“Sorry.” Brooke smiled. “I was just thinking.” Brooke picked up a nigiri, eating it in one bite.

“You real serious about this shot huh?” Vanjie looked at him, his lip between teeth.

“What makes you think I wasn’t?” Brooke tilted his head slightly, the words sounding strange coming from Vanjie. Brooke was always serious about everything.

“Id’nknow.”

Brooke chuckled. He had always been amazed at Vanjie’s ability to somehow translate text speak into a real life language.

“You just,” Vanjie dipped his maki. “You always give a shit,” Vanjie popped it into his mouth, covering it with his hand. ”but this is like, next level shit.” Vanjie chewed. “You never tell me nothing, so it’s like, wild to see.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Brooke smiled a little, the fact that Vanjie had only seen the tip of the iceberg dying on his tongue.

///

Vanjie yawned. He was happy and full, his stomach actually bulging a little, but it didn’t matter since he was fresh from the shower and cuddled underneath the duvet, Brooke’s arms around him as they spooned. 

“Are you asleep?”

“No bitch.” Vanjie smiled a little. “I only got my eyes closed for fun.”

Brooke chuckled, and Vanjie felt the warm breath against his neck. It was followed by a soft kiss, Vanjie sighing with delight.

“You have behaved so well today baby boy.”

Vanjie felt Brooke’s cock against the small of his back, the soft material of his sweats between their hot skin. Brooke thrusted his hips, and Vanjie looked over his shoulder.

“I didn’t dush.” 

He would have blushed, would have felt a little shame that he had eaten so much there was no way they were fucking, but he had gone way past that point with Brooke years ago.

“When has that ever mattered?” Brooke smiled, catching a nipple between his fingers, and Vanjie groaned. 

“Shit.” He bit his lip, the pad of Brooke’s thumb already delicious as he tightened his grip. “More.”

Brooke twisted his fingers, and Vanjie moaned, the sound coming from the bottom of his throat. Brooke touched him, his free hand running over his chest, his stomach, his legs, fingertips even gently touching the scar on his knee. Brooke sucked on his neck, a nail digging into his nipple.

“My pretty boy.”

Vanjie felt a thumb in his jockstrap, Brooke pulling down, Vanjie’s hard dick popping out.

“Please Mami.” 

Vanjie wanted Brooke to touch, wanted to feel, wanted the hard, sure, strokes he had so come to enjoy but that he could never replicate himself, the tinge of cruel maddingly perfect. 

“Did you enjoy looking at me today?”

“Wha-” Vanjie knew he had to sound stupid, but he couldn’t focus, the air of the room cold against his dick.

“I saw you baby.”

“That a problem?” Vanjie turned his head, and he could see that Brooke was smiling. Brooke loved to play with him, loved to rile him up, even when he was drooling precum on the sheets, even when Brooke was red hot against his back.

“It’s never a problem big guy.” Brooke pushed Vanjie’s shoulder, and he got the message immediately, rolling onto his stomach, his nipples touching the sheets and he sighed, the fabric delicious against the tender points. Brooke rolled on top of him, and Vanjie moved when Brooke’s knees on each side of him pressed his knees together.

“Did you like what you saw?” The words were whispered into his ear, the hot breath tickling, a rush of warmth running down Vanjie’s spine.

“Shut up.” Vanjie groaned, catching his lip between his teeth.

Vanjie could hear the smile in Brooke’s voice, could feel the huff. Brooke pushed his pants down, and Vanjie moaned as the thick cock was thrust between his cheeks. 

“Did you like what you saw baby?”

Vanjie groaned. “Fuck.” Brooke was stubborn, the asshole not giving him in an inch. Vanjie tried to push up, tried to get the friction he so craved, but Brooke held him down with no trouble at all, the weight in inself so fucking hot.

“Answer me.” Brooke growled, and Vanjie knew he didn’t stand a chance.

“Shit.” Vanjie whined, trying once again to move, but it was hopeless. “Yes! Fuck you, yes I did!”

“Not fuck me.” Brooke laughed, the asshole enjoying it. “Fuck you.”

Brooke started thrusting, and Vanjie knew the dam in him was broken, words falling from him like a waterfall.

“You so hot Mami.”

Thrust

“Wanna lick you all over.”

Thrust

“You a fucking sin.”

Thrust 

“So gorge, so, so, so-”

Vanjie was burning, hot and tight and loved, and he came, groaning with it, Brooke following just behind.


	4. Chapter 4

_ “Hi everyone!” Vanjie smiles brightly. Vanjie is in a grey tank top, his nipples peeking out, a cap on his head as he’s live on Instagram. “We arrived in Memphis Tennessee, and we ready to blow this bitch the fuck up!” Vanjie throws his arm out, a loud laugh leaving him.  _ _ They are in a parking lot, a row of cars behind them, people running around like ants in the background, cars getting unloaded left and right. _

_ “The competition starts tomorrow, and Imma try and do my best to give y'all the scoop." _

_ “Who’re you talking to?” Daniel pops into frame, the dancer wearing a band t-shirt, his back bent to be on Vanjie’s level, an arm going around Vanjie’s middle, and Vanjie laughs. _

_ “Bitch I’m reporting the news.” Vanjie smiles. “I gotta make sure everyone knows to come catch your asses so they can cheer.” _

_ “While I appreciate the support.” Daniel releases Vanjie who corrects his top, his nipples still out. ”Isn’t that rigging the competition?” _

__ “I don’t think there are any rules about who they allow to come see the part of the competition that takes place at the bars.” Courtney is standing besides Vanjie, her pink hair in french braids, her phone in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.  
  
"See?" Vanjie smirks.

_ “Actually, let me check.” Courtney drops her cigarette and steps on it, before she reaches into her handbag and takes a thick catalog out. _

_ “While we at it, ‘memeber to get tickets for Saturday! I made t-shirts, and if you ask real fucking nicely, I might give you one.” _

_ “You made t-shirts?” Courtney looks up from the catalog. _

_ “Yes bitch.” Vanjie smiles. Something happens outside of the frame, and all three of them turns their head.  _

_ “Babe!” Vanjie smiles brightly, turning the camera. Brooke is in a white t-shirt, his hair in soft curls on top of his head, his chin covered in a light dusting of scruff. _

_ “Gimme a kiss.” Vanjie stands on his tiptoes, and Brooke rolls his eyes before he bends his head.  _

_ “Steve and I got the rooms for everyone. We’re thankfully all on the same floor at the French Quarter, I was really worried for a mome-.” _

_ “Fuck!” Vanjie yells before he slams his hand over the camera, the stream cutting off. _

_ /// _

To say that Brooke had gotten angry was an understatement. Vanjie could practically see the steam come out of Brooke’s ears, but his boyfriend had kept his cool, his nostrils flaring as Steve told him to relax, the man reminding his best friend that almost all the contestants in the competition where staying there, that his costumes were stored in Jacklyn’s room, and not his own.

“It’s not like something is going to happen.”

They were walking down the hotel hallway, their luggage split between them as everyone helped carry everything inside.

“And how do you know that?” Brooke looked over at Steve and Vanjie bit his lip, the annoyance still clear on Brooke’s face. 

Vanjie had completely forgotten how paranoid pageant queens could be. It was a fair paranoia, Vanjie seeing with his own eyes how a queen had been stuck in a pair of shoes that had been smeared in glue, but Miss Gay America was the biggest pageant in America and there was an actual system in place that deducated points 

“If it helps, I’ll sleep in there.” Steve flexed, his giant muscle bear arm terrifying enough that Vanjie would absolutely reconsider his plan if he was the one doing a sneak attack during the night. “Courtney can switch with me.”

“We can’t just ask Courtney to swit-”

“I don’t mind sleeping in the room with you guys.” Courtney shrugged as best as she could, the suitcases she was lugging along meaning she could only move her shoulders. “As long as we open a window at night. I’m too gay to deal with whatever toxicity that seems to rumble in your bellies.”

Daniel snorted, shaking his head at Courtney’s comment. “Because woman never fart?”

“Not as much.” Courtney smiles. “Not as much.”

“I don’t mind either.” Jacklyn was tugging a clothing rack along, everyone stepping aside for a moment as another delegation walked by. 

“I’m sure Steve will be the perfect gentleman,” Jacklyn smiled. “If anyone has to protect the gowns, I should be first in line. I’ve spent hours on all of them.”

“Besides,” Courtney looked up at Brooke. “You and I share beds all the time.”

Vanjie almost stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t be sharing a bed with Brooke. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t even been told what room he was staying in.

“Hold on a seco-”

“I don’t think any of you want to share with Jose.” Brooke smiled a little, and Vanjie felt his heart swell, expecting sweet words to fall from his boyfriends lips. What came out however, was anything but.

“He’s a kicker.”

“Bitch.” Vanjie gasped, terror, embarrassment and anger all welling up in his chest. “I kick you one time, one time, and you be actin-”

“See what I mean?” Brooke smiled, releasing his suitcase and putting a hand over Vanjie’s mouth, a smile now fully on his face. “You guys can’t handle him.”

Brooke kissed the top of Vanjie’s head, and Vanjie felt a rush of relief that he had been forgiven for the hiccup, everything falling into place as Daniel and Courtney agreed to share.

///

Brooke let out a sigh of relief as he got his contestant number. The day had been a lot more hectic than he preferred, flying with Vanjie meaning he hadn’t been able to take the sleeping pill he would have normally swallowed the moment he stepped on the plane. He didn’t actually know if Vanjie knew he always took the little blue pills, since his boyfriend always insisted that they watched movies together, Vanjie practically in his lap for the entire flight as they shared a set of headphones.

“Brock Hayhoe?”

“Here!” Brooke held up his hand, and the MGA assistant handed him a badge. 

“You’re number 23.”

Brooke nodded, clutching the plastic name tag in his hand. 23 was a good number, a lucky number. Barely in the first half, but there anyway, so early that the judges would hopefully still be alert and wowed, but late enough that the audience was the good kind of drunk for a dance performance.

“Your seat is over there.” The man pointed, and Brooke nodded, walking over to the big round table that housed the people he’d be unable to avoid for the next few days, his number mates, 21 and 22 already seated. He didn’t recognise either of them, but that didn’t really matter.

“Hi.” Brooke smiled, though he wasn’t sure if it landed right, his face feeling a bit like a grimace. “I’m Brock, or, Miss Tennessee.” 

“Miss Florida.” A black man who looked to be about 45 held out his hand, shaking Brooke’s. “Sharde Ross.”

“I’m Courtney Kelly, from Ohio.” The man watched Brooke, and Brooke looked back.  “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before?”

“I was 1st alternate in 2018?” Brooke waited for a beat, proud of the accomplishment, but Miss Ohio didn’t look convinced.

“No. That’s not it.” He tilted his head. “Have you been on Drag Race?”

“Yes.” Brooke sat down, not elaborating, the fact that he had actually won, the fact that he had a Drag Race crown not earning him any credits in the pageant environment.

///

  
  


“Now remember everyone.”

Vanjie hid a yawn behind his hand. 

He was beyond bored, a man in a black suit and a really ugly salmon tie droning on on stage. Vanjie had chosen to come along for the info meeting, Daniel going with him too, what number they had actually important for Daniel since he would go on stage as well, but Vanjie hadn’t been able to imagine going out for dinner with Courtney, Steve and Jacklyn, when Brooke wouldn’t be there.

“Talent check in is at 8.30 tomorrow, failure to comply will get you disqualified. The show will begin at 9.30 at the very latest.”

“That seems like plenty of time?” Daniel looked down at Vanjie.

“Looks like you ain’t ever gotten ready with a bunch of bitches before.” Vanjie crossed his arms. “But it the first show, they won’t cause no problems yet.”

“If I could have from 21 to 25 come on stage please.” 

Vanjie perked up, the director finally saying something interesting. Vanjie watched as Brooke walked on stage, a satisfied smirk gliding over his lips as Brooke was decked out in designer from top to toe, his boyfriend looking fucking correct in the outfits Vanjie had packed for him. Vanjie secretly hoped the competition would feel intimidated, or at least envious, Vanjie pouring that intend into everything he had chosen for Brooke.

“What are they doing?” Daniel whispered, and Vanjie looked up at him.

“They be doing that Queen of England shit.”

“The queen?” Daniel looked at the stage, a little man in sweatpants running around and showing everyone how to move. “Ooooh.” Daniel smiled. “You mean curseys?” 

“Whatever you say smartass.”

“Please remember that it’s part of the routine to incorporate arm gestures.” 

Vanjie could barely hear what the little dude in sweatpants said, but he could see in Brooke’s face that his boyfriend was chewing his tongue in an attempt not to laugh. 

“There will be a freestyle portion of this, but we expect nothing but elegance.”

Vanjie felt his chest swell, elegance a word that described Brooke to a T, and as his boyfriend was asked to walk across stage, Vanjie felt delicious pride rush warmly over his body, Brooke looking like absolute grace.

“Hey, Vanj?”

Vanjie looked up at Daniel. They still weren’t the best of friends, but they had gotten along better and better, their Werq the World tour of South America bringing them a lot closer together.

“You ok? I think we still have another 20 minutes to go.”

Vanjie hadn’t even realised that he’d been fidgeting, and he was just about to apologize, when he saw that Daniel was holding his elbow out, offering it up for the taking, so Vanjie put his arm into it, leaning against the dancer, the pain in his knee almost disappearing.

///

Brooke looked at himself in the mirror. “Should I change my hair?”

The night had gone just fine, Courtney rocking a set of pyjamas with little avocados on it. Vanjie had attempted to be prissy, had probably wanted Brooke to apologize again for his kicking comment earlier in the day, but as Brooke had laid down in bed, Vanjie had curled around him instantly, crawling into his arms and demanding to be the little spoon, Daniel opening the window and turning off the light before he had crawled into the other double bed.

They had eaten breakfast in the room, Steve knocking on their door at 8.30, his hands filled with Starbucks that they had all eaten, some more awake than others, Vanjie practically asleep against Brooke’s side.

“I don’t think so.” Daniel smiled. He was leaning against the headboard of the bed, his coffee still in hand. “The lose curls make you look less uptight.”

“This isn’t uptight.” Brooke pulled on his lapels. “It’s Armani.”

Steve laughed, and Brooke turned to him. “Steve, do I look okay?”

“You look great.”

“I did bring another shirt. Do you want to see it? Should I change?”

Courtney rolled her eyes. “You look fine Brock.” Courtney ran her hands down Brooke’s chest, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.

Brooke looked into the mirror again, a small sigh leaving him. “All this fucking fuss for 8 minutes.”

“It’s 150 points.” Steve smiled. “It’ll be worth it.”

“Because I’m going to score a full card in male interview.” Brooke rolled his eyes a little. He didn’t mind male interview. It wasn’t his strongest category, but it was thankfully not a public one. He hadn’t been to many job interviews in his life, but he couldn’t imagine that they were any less terrifying. He was wearing an Armani suit, the label probably lost on the judges, but he had needed a new one anyway, his sister's wedding to the woman of her dreams coming up in the summer, so it had made sense to splurge.

“You’re going to get the 20 for general appearance without any trouble my man.”

“I don’t think your opinion as my best friend counts.” Brooke groaned. “God I wish I had taken a Xanax.”

They all heard a flush, the conversation dying down, Vanjie walking out of the bathroom seconds later.

“What y’all hoes looking at?! Can’t a guy take a shit in peace around here?”

The irony was obviously lost on Vanjie, his boyfriend still fighting any locked door with the passion of a thousand suns, but the argument never had any chance to develop, as Vanjie stopped dead in his tracks the moment he laid eyes on Brooke.

“.. Wow.” Vanjie was completely gobsmacked, and Brooke felt himself blush.

“I think that answers your question, huh?” Steve smiled. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Ready?” The assistant looked up at Brooke, a thick stack of papers in his hand as he directed the proceedings of the battle. 

“Ready.” Brooke took a deep breath, looking at the white door in front of him, the judges waiting on the other side. He still had a rumble of anxiety in his belly, the very bottom of his stomach tight as a knot, but Vanjie had kissed him for good luck just before he had left, his lips still warm, and that gave him courage.

The assistant opened the door, and Brooke stepped inside. 

“This is contestant number 23, Brock Hayhoe.”

Then, the door was closed, and Brooke was suddenly alone with the judges, all five of them looking straight at him.

“Good afternoon.” Brooke put on his most winning smile. He coughed briefly, lowering his voice just a tack. Brooke found it utterly stupid, but a part of the general requirement for male interview was to present as masculin as you possibily could. 

“Hello everyone. I took the liberty of making a portfolio,” 

Brooke handed out the black binders he had brought with him, Courtney preparing one for each judge that had photos of every major milestone in his career, as well as carefully picked photos from his ballet days and the small amount of male modeling he had done, to fully accent the male part of him. 

“That presents a little bit of info about me, and some visual references of my style of impersonation.”

Brooke shook their hands, only one of the judges, a red headed woman in a blue cardigan, smiling back at him, and Brooke took another deep breath, before he sat down on the small stool that was provided in the room, his legs deliberately not crossed, but spread out even though he was wearing a suit, the seam of his pants digging into his crotch.

“So Mr. Hayhoe.”

“That’s me.” Brooke smiled, his attempt of humor falling short, no one as much as smiling, so Brooke plastered his best meet & greet expression on his face, the sensation of the judges looks so like when a fan only met him because they had paid for the ticket to see someone else, and they felt like it’d be a waste of money to skip him.

“How many times have you competed in Miss Gay America?”

“This will be my third run.” Brooke took his time answering, clearly pronouncing each word. “In the world of pageantry, three times isn’t a lot, but for each attempt, I have grown as an artist, and the last time I competed, I managed to become first runner up, so I have every intention of making this my year.”

“You have a background in ballet?” One of the other judges asked, an eyebrow raised, and Brooke felt like he detected a smidge of genuine interested.

“That’s correct.” Brooke nodded. “I was educated at the National Ballet School in Toronto, and I spent 6 years as a paid professional.” Brooke felt himself calm down, his career in ballet something he was not only proud of, but that he could also speak of with total confidence. “I danced for two years at the Cape Town City Ballet in South Africa. Male roles of course, though I always longed for something a little more.. Glamorous.”

Brooke smiled, one of the judges actually answering it this time. 

“It taught me endurance, and the value of committing to my craft.”

“And for the last 4?”

“I was a Corps dancer at Ballet Trockadero, a wonderful company that honors the tradition of female impersonation.”

Brooke knew he was lying, but he could still remember the distaste on the judging panels faces when he had described Trockadero as a humorous parody company the last time he had competed.

“It allowed me to dance all over the world, and perform for royalty. We even performed for Karl Lagerfeld once”

“And why did you stop?”

Brooke moved a little in his seat, the lights that were pointed at him making him feel hot. “It was time for new challenges, and then, I found those in the art of drag,”

The judges noted it down, and Brooke winched a little on the inside, though he continued on.

“- and in the art of pageantry. I believe firmly that my past acomplishments will make sure that I’m the best Miss Gay America I can be. I’m proud to be Miss Continental, proud to be America’s Drag Superstar, and I know that I will be proud to be Miss Gay America as well.”

“How will you marry the values of Miss Gay America, with your own personal ones?”

“I believe in the value of discipline.” Brooke smiled, this question one he was utterly prepared for, and for the first time, all the judges answered his expression.

“Miss Gay America is the importance of being punctual, the importance of being professional, and most importantly, the importance of being easy to work with. I see no difference between the values of Miss Gay America, and my own, since we both believe in professionalism above all else.”

///

“You’re going to destroy the carpet if you don’t stop pacing.”

“Shut your face.”

Steve laughed, and Vanjie shot him a dirty look. They were waiting in the hallway, and Vanjie knew he was walking back and forth, but he couldn’t stand still, his entire body jittering. Male interview was the only category that was completely closed off from everyone else, Brooke all alone in the room with the judges, and Vanjie would give everything to see how he was doing. Time was moving along with a snail's pace, and Vanjie was about ready to explode.

“How long?”

“Another 10 seconds since the last time you asked.”

“Steve, please-”

“Fine.” Steve looked at his watch. “7 minutes, 55 second-”

Steve didn’t get to finish, as the door opened, and Brooke stepped out.

“Babe!”

Brooke threw a finger over his lips, telling Vanjie to be quiet, his blue eyes nailing Vanjie in his place. Brooke closed the door behind him, the wood clicking in, and Brooke’s shoulders fell, his entire body almost collapsing with relief.

“How’d it go?!” Vanjie hissed, trying so hard to keep his enthusiasm inside.

“Fine.” Brooke walked over, and Vanjie couldn’t help but enjoy the way Brooke looked as moved towards him. “I think…” Brooke looked back and forth between Steve and Vanjie, a smile growing on his face. “I think it went fine.”

///

“Do you have to shave the beard?”

Vanjie was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, swinging his legs back and forth. Brooke watched his boyfriends tanned skin, his delicious thighs, his strong shins, all of it openly on display in absolutely sinful booty shorts, the hot weather of Memphis meaning that Vanjie was running around in nothing but denim shorts and a tank top that covered so little he might as well have been naked.

“It’s going to look rather strange if I have a beard while walking in evening gown, don’t you think?” 

Brooke smiled, shaver in hand, though he hadn’t yet had time to actually put shaving foam on his face. Vanjie had followed behind Brooke into the bathroom, Brooke so used to his boyfriend shadowing him that he hadn’t even questioned it. Brooke had stripped out of his suit almost immediately when they had returned to the room, diving right back into his usual wardrobe, his Gucci sweats swung low on his hips as he filled everyone in on what had happened.

“You look real hot though.”

Brooke smirked, catching Vanjie’s eyes in the mirror. “Do I now?”

“Mmh..” Vanjie nodded, clearly basking in Brooke’s attention. “You was all business fish and serious in that suit of yours. Like you a fancy ass lawyer or one of those people who hires a good lil ho.”

“That,” Brooke put the shaver down, turning around, his hands resting on the sink. “Sounds an awful lot like a fantasy Papi.” Brooke smiled, the air growing electric. “Is that who you want to be?” Brooke watched Vanjie, his boyfriend squirming, his nipples hard. “My good lil ho?”

For how much Vanjie talked, for how he practically never kept his mouth shut, it was extremely rare for him to share a sexual fantasy. Brooke liked the idea that it was because he kept Vanjie more than satisfied, though he knew that is was probably just the fact that Vanjie got ever so shy around sex whenever he was openly confronted.

“Yes bitch.”

“Are you mine baby?”

“Ain’t a ho for no one else.” Vanjie spread his legs a little, and Brooke could see that Vanjie was hard in his shorts, his boyfriend so deliciously slutty. “Only want you.” Vanjie was already breathing heavily. “Prepped this morning, just in case.”

Brooke smiled, the act so like his boyfriend it was almost funny.

“Didn’t know if we’d need it or nothing, but I ain’t been thinking of anything else since I saw that fucking suit on you Mami.”

Brooke weighed the pros and cons for a moment, Jacklyn preparing his costumes in the other room, ironing out the final wrinkles and checking the seams one last time while everyone else had gone ahead to the bar. Steve to double check the measurements of the stage, Daniel and Courtney to eat dinner and to make sure that they had the very best view for the nights performance. The obvious pro, however, was how sweet and sinfully sexy Vanjie looked.

“Please Mami. Need you”

Brooke laughed, his thumb hooking on the edge of his sweats, Vanjie’s eyes going wide as he pushed them down, his cock springing free. “Come here baby.” Brooke smiled, and Vanjie obeyed instantly, his boyfriend rushing over and falling on his knees, Brooke burrowing his hand in Vanjie’s hair, once again thanking the gay gods for how quickly he could do his makeup.

///

“Courtney! Were your shirt at!” Vanjie looked over at Courtney, who was still in her white tank top, her neon blue bra peeking out underneath. The club was stuffed full of people, Miss Gay America pulling a full crowd even though it was a wednesday night.

“The show hasn’t even begun yet. It's still in my back” Courtney smiled, taking a sip of her drink. Vanjie had arrived at the club with Brooke and Jacklyn at 7:30, Vanjie taking a nap while Brooke had shaved and gotten ready. He had come so hard he had nearly blacked out, Brooke whispering the most delicious filth as he had fucked his face, and Vanjie was more than ready to cheer his boyfriend on.

“Bitch we gotta make sure Brooke know we here to support.” Vanjie pulled his backup t-shirt out of his fanny pack, the giant pink print of “Camp Hytes” decorating the chest. “Get it on girl.”

“It’s a lot more comfortable than it looks.” Daniel smiled, the dancer on his third beer.

“See!” Vanjie pointed at Daniel. “We committed.”

“Fine! Fine!” Courtney laughed, holding out her hand. “Give it to me.”

///

“Are you ready?”

Jacklyn smiled, her white blonde hair around her face. Brooke looked down at her, the designer all up in Brooke’s personal space as she went over the neckline one finale time. Brooke knew that the same excited, giddy and probably ecstatic expression was mirrored perfectly on her own face.

“I’m taking a stage.” Brooke shrugged. “When have I ever not been ready?”

///

_ The live starts, the screen completely dark. “Okay everyone.” _

_ Vanjie’s voice is heard, his breath catching on the mic, like he’s speaking right next to the phone. “Y’all pay attention now. Brock is up next, and Imma ‘bout to lose all my shit.” _

_ Vanjie removes his hand, and the camera focuses. _

_ “Ladies, gentlemen and everything in between. For evening gown competition, we have the next contestant, number 23, Miss Brooke Lynn Hytes!” _

_ The camera is pointed on stage, two giant Miss Gay America statuettes in gold flanking the edges of the stage. Brooke steps on stage, a piano playing elegant lounge music as the list of Brooke’s sponsors are read aloud. Brooke turns around, facing the audience for the first time._

_Vanjie gasps, several seconds of silence following right behind._

_“Yeeeeeees!!” The camera shakes as Vanjie yells, the audience cheering as well. “That my fucking baby!” _

_ Brooke looks absolutely stunning, her blonde locks swept to one side in an elegant coiffed wave. Brooke is wearing a silver dress with purple accents, the neckline resting against her breasts, irredesent fabric flaring out like feathers, the bodice is carefully constructed with gorgeous rhinestones in glittery purple, the see-through sleeves covering Brooke’s arms detailed with purple and silver embroidery the skirt flaring out into a mermaid tail of tulle that almost touches the ground with shades of white, blue and purple. Her lipstick is matched perfectly, silver jewelry discreetly underscoring the elegance, her shoes only just showing as she moves around on stage, everyone looking as Brooke does a quick kick, her skirt flowing as she turns. _

_ “Babe you a million dollar ho!” Vanjie cheers, the sound loud and clear even though he clearly tries to keep it down, Daniel’s laughter caught from just out of frame. _

_ Brooke waves, her eyes gliding over the audience until they settle on the camera, her face breaking into a stunning smile. _


	6. Chapter 6

“Does the shoe feel secure?”

Brooke was pulled out of her trance by Jacklyn’s question. Her designer and dresser were resting her knee on the floor, her fingers tight in the lace of Brooke’s boot.

“Yup.” Brooke twisted her foot, moved it back and forth, making sure Jacklyn had done the laces up right, the shoe staying on. Normally, she would have done it herself, but Jacklyn had fallen to her knees naturally, and Brooke was once again confirmed in the knowledge that she had made the right choice.

Brooke had changed over as soon as she had gotten off stage, shedding her evening gown like a snake shed a second skin, Steve already packing it away safe and secure, her post show routine down to an art. 

It had taken Brooke just about 20 minutes to get from one costume to another, Steve handing her a wet wipe so she could redo her lip in another color, a lipstick change one of the easiest illusions you could cast to make people believe you had actually redone your face. As always, Brooke shot a quick thought of thanks to Play in Nashville, most of her speed down to how often she had had to change costumes in a single night whenever she was at work. 

All around them, people were frantically changing from one costume to another, men in various stages of undress running around. A lot of the other competitors relied heavily on props of various kinds or on the help big elaborate costumes to carry them through, but Brooke hadn’t made that choice.

“Can you see my pads?” Brooke looked down at herself, her hips a lot bigger and softer in the skin tight outfit than they had been in the elegant gown.

“Let me see.” Jacklyn turned Brooke around, her hands on her hips, feeling the foam and moving it around.

“You both look and feels like a real woman.”

Brooke chuckled. “That seems generous.” 

Brooke had one headphone in, her performance music running on loop. Brooke shimmied her shoulders, rolling them, cracking her fingers. She had actually practiced what she was about to do for her solo talent, had done the routine over and over again in the studio while Daniel had corrected her, both of them watching her every move in the big mirrors.

Brooke was serious about her run, and for that to succeed, she had to make sure everything was perfect.

Brooke saw Dextaci out of the corner of her eye, the plus size queen qualified as Miss Mid-Atlantic. She wasn’t a fan favorite, but she had placed consistently in the top 10, and Brooke was so very happy she had gotten a contestant numbers in the 40s, since it meant Brooke actually had a chance to watch her perform. She was a ballad pro, and someone who often busted out their own singing voice, which was something Brooke knew she could never do herself.

“I think you’re ready.” Jacklyn smiled. She was wearing her signature black catsuit, Hytes written all over it, though Jacklyn had updated it beautifully with silver thread and rhinestones. Making the decision of her preliminary talent costumes had been a hard one, the choice probably the one Brooke and Jacklyn had discussed the most, but they had agreed that simple was better, Brooke’s biggest advantage over her competitor how much of a dancer she truly was. 

“Go get them gorgeous.”

///

_ Vanjie goes live, just as the rest of a red train disappears from stage.  _

_ “Aand that was a thank you to Courtney Kelly, performing in solo talent!” _

_ “Thank fuck we made it.” Vanjie’s voice is slightly frazzled. The stage is empty, a stage hand cleaning the rose petals away that had been thrown on stage. _

_ “All y’all in the comments gotta calm the fuck down, I know I’mma late, but I had to take a piss.” _

_ “It’s tough drinking when you’re so small.” Daniel’s voice chimes in. “Nowhere to store the liquid.” _

_ “Bitch, it ain’t got nothing to do with tha-” _

_ “Next up, contestant number 23, Brooke Lynn Hytes who will be performing “Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish for us.” _

_ “Oh fuck.” Vanjie chokes, his voice breaking. _

_ Brooke steps on stage, and Vanjie cheers. Brooke walks slowly, a smirk playing over her eyes as she looks directly at the judges. The music starts, and Brooke snaps along as the intro plays, humming with a smile on her lips, her expression distant like she’s better than anybody in the room. Brooke blows on her nails like she’s drying them, and the lyrics starts. _

**I do what I want when I'm wanting to, My soul? So cynical**

_ Brooke is dirty and perfect, twirling and twisting, shaking her ass. _

**So you’re a tough guy**

_ The beat drops, and Brooke moves with it, throwing her body around, her wig flying all over. She’s extremely sexual, every single part of her completely woman.  _

**So you're a tough guy, like it really rough guy**

_ Brooke throws her leg up on one of the speakers, her black boot shining.  _

**Just can’t get enough guy, Chest always so puffed guy**

_ Brooke smirks, and in the front of the audience, a girl cheers so loud it sounds like she pops a lung. _

**I’m the bad type**

_ Brooke smirks, the entire club looking at her as she broke out her acrobatics in the second half of her performance, standing on her head and moving her legs around like they weighed nothing. _

///

Brooke left the stage, a giant smile on her lips, the audience cheer still ringing in her ears. She felt completely stress free, relaxed and happy, her body soaring, her mind free the way it only was after a really good performance or really great sex. She was sweaty and tired, but sex and dancing had that in common too.

It was the first time she hadn’t had a knot of anxiety in her stomach since arriving at the competition, and she was flying high on it.

It had been a risk to perform something so sexual, a risk to take the bar part of her into a pageant as elegant as Miss Gay America, but acting like a stripper that was paid a disgusting amount of money for her shows was a core part of Brooke’s performance style, and she knew she had made the right choice when she had seen the judges reactions.

Brooke made it backstage, Jacklyn cheering loudly the moment she saw her, Steve smiling proudly next to her, her best friend sitting on her suitcases.

“Look at you!!” Jacklyn cheered. “God I think I almost got pregnant.”

“Let’s hope not,” Steve replied dryly. “I don’t think Uncle Broccoli is ready to be a dad.”

Brooke could feel the eyes of her competitors on her, had no doubt that they had heard the audience cheer for her, but she walked past them, not allowing anyone to see even the slightest chink in her armor.

“You did good out there.” Brooke hadn’t expected anyone to talk to her, the other contestants keeping a distance, but as she turned, she saw contestant number 7 stand there, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

“Pattaya, right?” Brooke smiled, holding out her hand.

“And you’re Brooke?”

Brooke nodded, Pattaya taking her hand.

Pattaya Hart was Miss Gay New York, and she was absolutely stunning. She was still in her performance costume, a blonde wig styled expertly on her head, her body dripping in gold. Brooke hadn’t been able to see the performance, but she had heard Money Money Money through the thin walls the bar had put up.

“I loved you in 2019.” Brooke released Pattaya’s hand, the slender hand looking so very feminine in her own grasp. “Your all that jazz performance was one of the best I’ve seen.”

“You saw that?” Pattaya smiled, her eyes widening slightly.

“Of course.” Brooke chuckled. “Or, I mean, I saw it online on a shitty hotel connection in Kentucky,” Vanjie had been asleep on her shoulder, Brooke watching it with headphones in. “But once a pageant queen-”

“Always a pageant queen.” Pattaya laughed, pointing at Brooke. “I hope to see you in the top 10.”

“Same to you.” Brooke smirked, the friendly rivalry between them making warmth blossom in her chest. “I can’t wait to beat you.”

///

“You really want me to sign your abs Mary?” Vanjie looked at the man, one eyebrow raised.

“Please.” 

Vanjie knew he had been told the fans name, but he couldn’t remember it even if he had been held at gunpoint.

“If you sure.” Vanjie uncapped the sharpie he always carried around, the cap going between his teeth as the fan pulled his shirt up. When Vanjie had been tapped on the shoulder on his way to the bar, he had been so excited, had fully expected to be asked to hand over one of the shirts he had stuffed his fanny pack full of, but instead, he had been asked for an autograph.

“Bitch don’t get no closer.” Vanjie laughed, pushing back against the fans stomach, the felt tip of the sharpie making contact with skin. “I don’t wanna touch your dingaling.”

“You can touch me whichever way you want.” The fan smirked, and Vanjie guessed that he was kinda attractive, a dark beard, dark eyes and tan skin kind of attractive, but it wasn’t Brooke, the feel of skin under his hand not doing anything for him.

“Nu uh!” Vanjie finished the autograph with a little heart. He put the cap back on the sharpie, pointing it at the fan. “You cute, but I’ma married woman.”

“I don’t see a ring?” The fan took a step forward, Vanjie taking one backwards at the exact same time. 

Vanjie had no idea why fans insisted on behaving this way, men somehow getting it into their skulls that they could call themselves their fans and still act like his relationship wasn’t one of the most important things in his life.

“It a state of mind.” Vanjie smirked, tapping his own templel. “Have fun tonight!”

///

Brooke had spotted Vanjie at the bar, her boyfriend pulling dollar bills out of his sock to pay for drinks.

“Hey hot stuff.” Brooke sneaked an arm around Vanjie’s waist, pulling him close, easily boxing the smaller man in between her body and the bar. Vanjie leaned his head back, bumping her tits, his face breaking into a smile.

“Hey.”

Brooke leaned down, gently touching their lips together. Vanjie was so deliciously small when he was out of drag and she wasn’t. Brooke had actually feared when they had first started going out in public post Drag Race that she would feel ridiculous, that the insecurities of her boyhood would return and that she’d be too big and too awkward and too wrong, but Vanjie’s personality was a big he easily filled out a room, no one making fun of the fact the man with the giant voice was hanging off the arm of a 6 foot plus drag queen.

“Love the shirt.”

“You saw it on stage?” 

“I did.” Brooke smiled. She didn’t have the heart to tell Vanjie that she had barely been able to see the judges, the bar clearly not used to a competition of the size of Miss Gay America, but she had heard Vanjie yell, which was kind of the same thing.

The bartender put a tray of drinks and beer down on the bar, Brooke taking the tray, easily holding it up and out of Vanjie’s reach with a laugh when her boyfriend complained that he should be the one to carry it since he paid for it.

It felt wonderful to be done with the first round, and Brooke practically felt invincible, Jacklyn putting together the most amazing look for her with a sharp deep blue structured blazer, a yellow silk top and a blue pencil skirt for the after party part of mingling with everyone.

“Brooke!” Courtney lit up as they returned to the table, Brooke sitting the drinks down. “You’re just in time for Iman DeMarco.”

“Who dat?”

Brooke took a seat, Vanjie dumping down next to her. Steve had joined them too, everyone grabbing drinks, while Jacklyn had returned to the hotel with Brooke’s costumes.

“Miss Arkansas.” Courtney fiddled with her camera, the big cannon looking very professional. “It’s her first competition, but you should have seen her prelim costume.” Courtney held the camera to her eye, checking the light. “Though she’s probably not gonna pulla Brooke.”

“A Brooke?” Brooke took a sip of her drink. She would have preferred a beer or tequila shots, but the vodka cranberry Vanjie had ordered for her was nice too.

“Winning on the first try.” Courtney smiled. “But she might beat the top 10.”

///

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” Vanjie giggled as he had accidentally kneed Brooke in the chest. He dumped down on the inside of the bed, gathering the sheets around him. Courtney was propped up on the bed, her laptop in her lap, while Daniel had disappeared with a very attractive local Memphis blonde.

“One day.” Brooke groaned, his hand rubbing his chest. “You’re gonna crush something, and I won’t recover.”

“I didn’t even stamp you in the nerds or nothing.” 

The evening had gone by in a blur, Vanjie watching as Brooke had networked the night away, shaking hands left, right and center, Vanjie sitting in the back of the Uber on the way back to the hotel, Brooke’s hand on his knee, his boyfriend gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. 

Brooke had emptied out his tit, a regular shower of business cards falling out of his bra. Steve had organised them while they had eaten a quick nighttime snack of grilled cheeses, Vanjie practically asleep against Brooke’s side while the two men had divided the cards into piles of who they wanted to contact, who they wished to politely decline, and who Brooke was genuinely enthusiastic about.

“I have to be sterile already anyway with all the stabbing and picking and probbing you’ve been doing.”

“Thank fuck we homos then.” Vanjie smirked, snuggling into Brooke’s arm. “Ain’t no need to be worrying when you pounding my ass.”

Vanjie breathed in deeply, the scent of sweat, Brooke’s male cologne and the hairspray that he liked to use in drag all swirling in his nose.

“Can we not talk about your love life while I’m here?” Vanjie looked over at Courtney, who was tapping away on her computer, her hair collected in a crazy bun on top of her head, her glasses on.

“Don’t you mean fuck life?” Brooke smirked, and Courtney laughed.

“No wonder you don’t want to share with him when you have to concentrate.” Courtney smiled, rubbing her eyes, the woman clearly tired too. “You’re acting like you’re 12.”

“We fully grown baby, and Brooke in more ways than one.”

“Oh god.” 

Vanjie snickered, his eyes slowly closing. “He my mans, I can’t help it.”

“You’re not the only person who calls him your man.” Courtney smiled. “They love you online Brooke.” 

“They love your pictures.” Brooke turned a little, making sure Vanjie was comfortable. Courtney had already edited her pictures from the night, throwing them up online. She  was one half of Drag Coven, their photos always shot with the utmost respect for the entertained they portrayed. 

“No, I’m serious.” Courtney held up her computer, her bare feet touching the ground between their beds. “Look.” Courtney turned her screen, Reddit pulled up.

“Uh no mama!” Vanjie placed his hand over Brooke’s eyes. “That website is cursed.”

“Your finger is in my nose.”

“Don’t you complain when I’m saving you from a far worse fate. Reddit ain’t even done no body good.”

“Let’s just see what they’re saying.” Brooke grabbed Vanjie’s wrist, gently removing his hand from his face. “It might be nice.”

///

Westalacae   
That look over her shoulder, that was the moment I perished

MrLateTermAbortion

I am so glad that RPDR graced us with this goddess. When she told me she loved my outfit in Drag Con, I was touched by an angel.

mathchem

Beautiful as always, but it looks like she is stepping on the dress. Maybe its the angle or my imagination. Regardless, flawless :)

Ierpier

I audibly gasped. I'm not even exaggerating. I have already watched this six times, I'm utterly mesmerized

literallytoodone

I wish she had black hair.   
  



	7. Chapter 7

“Big guy.” Brooke was kneeling on the bed, careful not to press his knee against any parts of Vanjie’s body. He waited for a moment, a reply still not coming. “Hey.”

“Mmh?” Vanjie’s eyes slid open, but Brooke could see that he wasn’t actually awake.

“Do you want to go to the gym with me?”

Vanjie huffed, his boyfriend not even answering him as he pulled the duvet up, covering his face with it, only the very top of his black hair peeking out. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” Brooke smiled, kissing Vanjie’s hair before he got up, Daniel following right behind him.

///

It was a little past lunch, and Vanjie was bored. Vanjie had woken up all alone in the room, the group chat telling him that Courtney had gone off to a coffee shop to get some writing done, while Steve and Jacklynn had gone to the airport in the cars to get the dancers Brooke needed for the next days big show. 

Brooke and Daniel hadn’t written anything in the chat, but if Vanjie knew his boyfriend well enough, they were off somewhere to practice, Brooke too much of a perfectionist not to get the last few rounds of rehearsal before a performance. Vanjie was pretty sure Brooke had kissed him goodbye before he had left that morning, a faint memory of a kiss in his mind, but he didn’t really know.

He had taken a bath, facetiming his Mama and gushing about how good Brooke had been the day before, Anabell always ready to listen to her sons interests. Vanjie had his mom his best friend on Drag Race, and while Silky was surely fighting for the placement, it wasn’t a real competition when it came down to it.

It had felt wonderful to chat with Anabell, her joy of Vanjie’s jokes floating through the screen, but as they hung up, Vanjie’s bathwater turning cold, he had felt his mood and his stomach do the same.

There was still no messages from Brooke, and Vanjie didn’t know what to do.

Vanjie knew he wasn’t Brooke’s partner at the pageant, but it felt weird to be kept completely in the dark. He knew Brooke trusted him, knew that Brooke valued and loved him, but it was hard not to feel upset when he could see on Daniel’s Instagram page that all the dancers had gathered in a studio space that Brooke hadn’t even told him he had booked.

Vanjie had ended up floating to the hotel bar, the space filled with semilost souls just as himself, the entire hotel booked up by Miss Gay America contestants and their entourages.

Vanjie was drinking a diet cola, the idea of alcohol not all that appealing since he knew they were going out again that night. Vanjie was swinging his legs back and forth from the barstool he was sitting in, his phone in hand as he looked through the photos from the night before. He hadn’t taken any in the club, had left that to Courtney, but he still made sure to share the good pictures on his Twitter and Instagram. It was a miracle that Vanjie still had a bigger audience than Brooke, the love Rhianna had thrown at him certainly not hurting in any capacity, Vanjie actually booked by her once in a while, and he still couldn’t believe that it was his world.

Vanjie took a sip of his coke, a smirk coming out to play on his lips when he came across one of the photos he had sneaked of Brooke in the suit. His boyfriend looked like sex on legs, the suit actually fitted to him, not a single thing out of place, and Vanjie reminded himself that he had to make sure he asked what brand Brooke had gotten, so they could match for Brooke’s sisters wedding in the summer. Vanjie went through the photos he had taken, biting his lip as he tried to decide which one he liked best, Vanjie finally settling for a picture of Brooke leaned against the wall, one leg up as his shoe was pushed against the brick.

Vanjie uploaded it to his Instagram page, a short and sweet caption underneath that ended with an orange heart filling him with delicious pride and possessiveness. A lot of queens treated their Instagrams as an online portfolio, and Vanjie understood it in part, but he had never been organised, and didn’t really have the professional bones in his body to enjoy a carefully curated online presence. 

Vanjie opened his texts as well, sending the photo to Brooke too, as well as three baguette, raindrops and the tongue emoji. Vanjie knew that the eggplant had been universally recognised as the emoji of dick, but with Brooke, nothing but the baguette had ever felt right.

///

“Hi everyone!” Brooke smiled brightly as his crew swarmed into the studio, all eight dancers suddenly seeming like so many as they filled the entire space. Brooke had been so unsure when he had hired such a big crew, ten people on stage, including himself and Daniel a very big production, but he felt confident in the fact that they could pull it off, and after all, he knew in the bottom of his stomach that Celine Dion deserved nothing but the best.

“Hey!” Andrew came over to hug Brooke, the redhead one of Brooke’s dearest ballet friends from New York. Brooke had hired a crew of both males and females of all colors and a variety of ages, Steve thankfully arriving at the studio with them, Jon there as well even though he kept in the background, Brooke knowing that it was his own fault that his best friends husband kept such a distance to him while he was in pageant mode.

“I’m so happy all of you could make it!”

One of the women, Aurora, laughed. “Well, you’re paying me to be here.” Brooke hit her shoulder, the gorgeous woman one of his former coworkers and playmates at Play, while also being one of the first trans woman to win at Miss Gay America, the fact that she had agreed to dance backup for Brooke such an honor and a show of confidence.

“I connected the music.” Daniel came up next to Brooke, a small smile playing on his lips. “Should we do a run through?”

Brooke couldn’t pinpoint the moment Daniel had become more of a confidant and a second in command than simple a dance partner, but he was beyond grateful for the support and the easy comradery Daniel showed him, Brooke not even noticing his phone vibrating in his pocket.

///

“You’re Vanessa Mateo, right?”

Vanjie looked up, a stranger coming over to him, though he vaguely recalled the man. “You’re umh..”

The man smiled, holding out his hand. “Roger.”

“Right!” Vanjie grabbed it, realising where he recognised the man from. It had been the funny little sweat pants wearing dude that had taught the queens how to curtsey at the first meeting for all the contestants. “You a former Miss Gay, right?”

“1989.” Roger nodded, clearly very proud. He pointed to the chair next to Vanjie, and Vanjie moved, showing him that he could absolutely sit down.

“You’re here with Brooke Lynn Hytes, right?”

“Mmh.” Vanjie smirked, proud that it was recognised that he was part of Brooke’s team, even though he didn’t really feel like it in the moment. 

“Where is Brooke?”

“He out practising I think.” Vanjie looked for the bartender. “You want a drink or something? My treat?”

“I’m good.” Rogers leaned against the bar a little. “Brooke is extremely talented.”

Vanjie lit up, recognising that he had the chance to discuss his favorite subject with another person. “I know.”

“Do you know what he’s performing?”

“Oh shit babe I wish I knew.” Vanjie smiled. “I ain’t even heard the song but it’s gonna be a full fucking production, that’s for sure.”

“That must have been very expensive.”

“I don’t except shit for christmas that’s for sure.” Vanjie laughed. He had no idea how much money Brooke had spent competing, and he honestly didn’t want to, though it was a bit hard not to translate the insane expenses to a long vacation abroad or all the clothing Vanjie could have bought with the money. “but it fine. If you got the means, use the means you know?”

“So you’re cool with such an influential figure competing?” Roger looked at Vanjie, a brow raised a little as he asked his question, and Vanjie felt the mood shift. “Even if he’s a judge too?”

Vanjie bristled, suddenly recognising Roger for what he was. A pageant queen of olds, and a bitter one at that. “Last time I checked we as in America.” Vanjie snorted, “not Canada.”

“I’m just saying, most of the constants here hasn’t had the opportunities to-”

“Listen.” Vanjie looked at Roger. “You an officiate person?”

“Officiate? You mean official? No, I’m simply helping.”

“Then I think you should shut your face.” Vanjie stood up, “and keep your nasty ass attitude to yourself. Brooke qualified fair and fucking square, ain’t no shit there.” Vanjie showed his phone in his pocket and walked away, his chest burning with righteous rage.

///

“Andrew!” 

Brooke watched as Vanjie threw himself at New York queen, hugging him tight. Swiss Chalet had been kind enough to book Brooke a suit at the hotel for the dancers. They still had to sleep two to a bed, Jacklyn openigly welcoming Jon in her and Steve’s room, but the open floor of the living room was a god sent with all the people that had to be fed. They could have gone out to eat, but Brooke hadn’t been able to stomach the stress of getting everyone in and out, so instead, Courtney and Steve had done a chipotle run, a spread put out on the coffee table that was a Werq the World tour worthy. 

“Hey lil one.” Andrew smiled, and Vanjie laughed. It was still a bit of a sore spot in Vanjie who awkward he had felt the first time he had met Brooke’s ballet family in New York, most of the Truckadero dancers staying behind after a finished career for the company, all of them transitioning into either a comfortable job in the theater world, or simply changing to other means of life. Brooke should have known that bringing Vanjie along for a night out at a bar would have been too much, but he had simply been too excited to marry the two worlds, the fact that Vanjie could feel out of place not even crossing his mind as his boyfriend was usually the life of any and all parties.

“How’s the knee doing?”

“Still kicking!” Vanjie laughed, doing a little kick just to show how well his physical therapy had gone. Brooke had sat down on the couch, a steak salad in his lap. Brooke tucked a little on the belt loop of Vanjie’s shorts, his boyfriend looking down on him for the first time.

“Come sit?” Brooke smiled a little, surprised at how needy he felt, but he hadn’t seen Vanjie all day, the crew of dancers meaning that Vanjie hadn’t sought him out like a missile as he usually would. 

“You missing me Mami?” Vanjie smiled, putting his legs in Brooke’s lap as he sat down.

“You’re my good luck charm.”

He had meant it, but he hadn’t expected Vanjie’s reactions, his boyfriend going completely still, his eyes lighting up, his cheeks flushed red. Vanjie moved even closer, grabbing Brooke’s arm and putting it over his shoulder, snuggling fully into Brooke’s neck.

“You my charm too.”

///

“The others are whispering about you.” 

Brooke turned to look at Daniel, the other still in the denim shorts and the white tank top he had worn all day. They were backstage at a different bar than the day before, the Miss Gay America pageant traveling around from location to location on the three days of public competition. Courtney was sitting on Brooke’s suitcase, Steve switched out for the night as Brooke knew he couldn’t expect Jon to spend time near her when she was in a pageant mood. 

“I know.” Brooke pressed down on the nail she was putting on. There were queens that supported Brooke, that was excited to see the bar raised and the competition moving in a new direction like Pattaya, the two of them saying hi yet again when Brooke had arrived at location, but Miss Gay America had 50+ preliminary queens, and many of them was the old school kind that had nothing but contemptment towards queens who tried anything new at all. “And we’re going to ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” Daniel asked, crossing his arms. “You don’t want to tell a judge or something? I heard some pretty nasty shit in the bathroom.”

“You’re at a gay club.” Courtney smirked. “What did you expect?”

“Not that kind of dirty- Urgh.” Daniel groaned, and Jacklyn laughed.

“In this household we run a clean game.” Brooke pointed at Daniel, a lilac nail on her finger. “That’s what my mother always told me.”

“Your mother competed in pageants? Isn’t she a little old lady.”

“Not my mom mom.” Brooke cared deeply for Daniel, but sometimes he forgot how absolutely new he was to the world of drag. “My drag mother, Farrah.” Brooke smiled, Jacklyn rubbing her arms with vaseline. “We run a clean game at the House of Hytes.”

“Right.” Daniel huffed a little, and Brooke could see how deeply unfair he found it. “Vanjie’s a Mateo, right?”

“Look at you getting it.” Brooke laughed, stepping into the shoe Jacklynn was holding out for her. “I knew you wasn’t just a pretty face.”

“Done.” Jacklynn stepped back, and Brooke turned to look in the mirror. Swimsuit was the part of the costume competition she had felt the most anxious about, simply based on the fact that it hurt like a bitch to tug well enough that Brooke could walk out in one piece. She had even called Trinity for help, the Texan queen recommending types of glue Brooke had never even considered putting on her body, and that she would hopefully never use ever again.

Her and Jacklynn had gone for an updated version of her purple caftan look, the regal elegance of it still one of Brooke’s personal favorites from her run on American Drag Race. Brooke had already called a photographer for a shoot the moment she returned to L.A, the knowledge of how much her lesbian fans would love it already amusing. It felt strange to be a 35 year old man, who’s primary fangroup was lesbians, but Brooke wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

///

“Fuck.” Vanjie whispered, his eyes glued to the stage as contestant number 22 left. Both Steve, Jon and himself was decked out in ‘Camp Hytes’ shirts, Vanjie nearly running out as all the dancers had been in on his idea instantly. Vanjie had messed around outside, taking pictures of all of them together, a fuck you to Roger running through his mind as he uploaded the picture, Brooke’s team strong enough to withstand any bullshit.

“Brooke’s up next.”

Steve smiled. “I know. She’s still 23, just like she was yesterday.”

“Don’t you play with me asshole.”

Steve laughed, and Vanjie smiled too, the two of them truly finding their rhythm on this trip. Vanjie was just about to open his mouth again, when Brooke walked on stage, and Vanjie dropped his jaw.

Brooke was absolutely stunning, lilac chiffon floating behind her as she walked down the stage, her white blonde wig styled to perfection after every pageant rule. Brooke stopped in the middle of the stage, tugging on a string, and her caftan practically slid off, revealing glistening skin, incredibly long legs, a perfectly proportioned body and soft tits that looked so woman Vanjie had to take a double take.

“Holy shit..” Vanjie hadn’t even realised he had grabbed Steve’s thigh, his fingers digging in as Brooke turned around, revealing an ass that looked so good you could bounce quarters on it.

///

“Are you ready?"

Brooke looked over at Daniel, her partner in a white suit that fitted perfectly with the frosty ballroom elegance Brooke was wearing. She had changed persona completely, not an inch of sex left in her, Brooke feeling most of all like a European princess on her way to her coronation ball.

“If I’m ready?” Daniel looked back, a smile playing on his lips, his face covered in a light makeup that Courtney had put on him while Brooke had been on stage. “This is what you’ve prepared for Brock.”

“What we have prepared for.” Brooke grabbed Daniel’s hand, squishing it in her own, the host of the night announcing them, and Brooke walked on stage together with Daniel for her preliminary production talent. Brooke felt hot all over, her palm sweaty, but then, Daniel grabbed her shoulder, pulling her into position, and as the music started, Brooke felt a wave of calm wash over her.

The music was a gentle, sorrowful piano piece that fitted perfectly to the soulfull waltz they had prepared. They flew across the stage, Brooke’s back bent perfectly, their legs and feet following the practiced rhythm, her gown twirling at every turn, the light catching on her costume. The song switching into a much more upbeat tune, and Daniel laughed as he launched Brooke into a jump, the two of them changing into a quickstep for the second half of their number, surprising everyone with the unexpected twist.

///

“Mmh?”

Vanjie smiled as Brooke turned in the bed. They had come back to the room, Brooke heading directly for the shower, and Vanjie hadn’t followed him for once, even he recognising that Brooke needed some time alone to decompress after the nights event. So many people had flocked around Brooke when he had come out in his evening party outfit, bar patrons and former contestants who had never seen formal ballroom dancing all so excited about what they had managed to pull off. 

“Why you still awake?” Vanjie crawled underneath the duvet, Vanjie the last one to use the bathroom, so when he had come out, the room had been quiet and dark, everyone else already asleep. 

Brooke looked at him, Vanjie barely able to see his expression with only the dim light from the street, but he felt the hand as Brooke reached out, gently settling his palm on Vanjie’s hip.

“I’m scared,” Brooke whispered, his breath hot against Vanjie’s face. “That I won’t make top 10.”

Vanjie stopped, the insecurity so unexpected. Brooke had looked every bit the part the entire night, carrying himself with grace and dignity. 

“Bitch,” Vanjie whispered back. “You wiped the floor with everyone tonight.” Vanjie pulled the covers over their heads, creating a little fabric den around them. “No one was as stun as you.” Vanjie was speaking the absolute truth, his heart in every word he said. “You pulled out a whole ass production with just two peeps.”

Vanjie had watched the entire show, had seen what some of the other contestants had brought with props and so many dancers they could barely fit on stage. It had been entertaining to watch, but it had been nothing against the pure talent Brooke had shown.

Brooke smiled, and Vanjie could feel the sadness radiating from him. “I don’t think your opinion counts love.” Brooke kissed him, his lips so very soft. “I just can’t stop thinking…” Brooke sighed, the breath hitting Vanjie’s face. “I’m so scared of disappointing everyone…” 

“No.” Vanjie could feel that Brooke was spiraling, could sense the upcoming desperation radiating from the man he loved so very much. “Don’t you think that.” Vanjie moved even closer to Brooke, throwing a leg over his stomach. “You listen to me white boy.” Vanjie pointed at Brooke. “You always think you ain’t making it.”

Vanjie felt a sudden dejavu to Drag Race, the exact same conversation happening between them when Brooke had told him they were lip syncing for their life. 

“You always think it you who won’t get what you want, and I’m telling you.”

Vanjie had known Brooke would win then, and he knew it now too. 

“You worked real ass hard, and you gonna win, if that is what you wanna do. Okay?”

Brooke nodded a little, his head hidden in Vanjie’s neck, the lack of tears giving Vanjie hope that he could still pull Brooke back.

“You work so hard I barely even seen you.”

Brooke chuckled, the warm sound pure perfection. “That sounds like a lie Papi.” Brooke cupped Vanjie’s ass, holding it in his palm. “You’re seeing me right now.”

“I feel what I feel.” Vanjie crawled even closer, neither of them hard, Brooke simply finding comfort in Vanjie’s arms. “Listen. I wanna see you cry on stage when you win Mami.” Vanjie kissed Brooke’s temple, the gesture so very new and foreign to him, since Brooke was always the one who did it to him, but in this moment, it was exactly right. “And you better deliver everything I know you can.”


	8. Chapter 8

Vanjie yawned, hiding his face in his arm. He was on the crosstrainer, the routine of it so familiar he barely even had to think as his arms and legs worked together. Vanjie didn’t like going to the gym, but he didn’t mind going with Brooke, least of all when he could practically see the dark cloud hanging over his boyfriends head. Brooke had tried to sneak out that morning, pulling his arm out from underneath Vanjie, but Vanjie had woken up and come with him, without Brooke even asking if he wanted to come along, that decision not up to Brooke today.

Brooke was standing in front of the mirrors of the hotel gym, earbuds in, his grey tank slowly getting soaked with sweat as he pumped iron, his brow furrowed, his thoughts clearly swirling around his head.

Brooke had slept, which Vanjie was happy about, but it hadn’t been the deep, near unmoveable rest he was used to from his boyfriend, Vanjie actually checking Brooke’s pulse a time or two during their relationship just to see if he was still alive. Instead, he had tossed and turned, his eyelids flickering with what Vanjie could only assume was nightmares, though they looked so very different from his own. 

Vanjie had never been so close to Brooke when he was feeling so insecure, the other man falling asleep while Vanjie held him, the new and unfamiliar position meaning that Vanjie had woken up again and again during the night, Brooke each time still connected to him.

They showered together in the gym, no one else there, and normally Vanjie would find an open shower incredibly sexy, the chance to cup a feel or maybe even suck a little dick so very tempting to the side of him that adored showing Brooke off, but Brooke had barely seen Vanjie, his boyfriends big hands gliding through his hair and scratching him just right as Brooke washed his locks, the routine such a big part of who they were as a couple that it seemed like Brooke could do it even while on anxiety autopilot.

Brooke had dressed and gone directly for the hotel buffet, and as they stepped in, Vanjie got a sense of how big Brooke’s team actually was. Feeding a staff of 15 on takeaway was a foolish endeavor so Brooke had booked them the breakfast buffet for the first time, Vanjie recognising a few of the people in the hotels restaurant as other contestants in the competition. 

The dancers were all hanging out together, joking and pranking, sharing food and laughing with each other, their mood ever so good and Vanjie felt proud that Brooke had managed to pull together such a good group with such good chemistry.

Vanjie had taken one look at the breakfast spread, his nose scrunched up at the selection, and he had ended up with a piece of toast and butter, breakfast truly not his favorite meal. Brooke was taking forever to make a decision, so Vanjie left him there, Brooke still standing with an empty bowl in hand, looking back and forth between yoghurt and oatmeal, even after Vanjie had elbowed him in the side. 

“Okay, so.” Vanjie sat down, Steve, Jon and Courtney all together at one table. “The fuck is up with Brooke?”

“The fuck is up with what?” Steve smiled, stabbing his scrambled egg on his fork, Steve’s plate a protein paradise. 

“He all weird.”

“Say goodmorning to pageant Brooke.”

“You telling me he ain’t been pageant so far?” Vanjie raised a brow, not really believe Steve. Vanjie had never seen Brooke behave with so much anxiety, had never seen Brooke so uncollected before.

“You’ve met pre-pageant Brooke.” Steve smirked, pointing his fork at Vanjie, the man annoyingly calm. “This is pageant Brooke, and he is an entirely different experience.”

“The bitch was fine yesterday,” Vanjie crossed his arms, his eyes seeking Brooke no matter how much he tried not to, Aurora standing with his boyfriend, their common friend gently touching his arm as they spoke together. 

Brooke had had the minor freakout in bed, Vanjie able to calm him down, but he didn’t want to share that with the group, Brooke’s emotions too private to lay out on the table, even if it was to some of his mans very best friends. 

“He’s barely said shit all morning.”

“I kinda understand it.” Jon spoke, and Vanjie looked up, surprised at the fact that Steve’s husband chimed in. “I don’t condone it.” Jon took a bite of watermelon on his fork, popping it into his mouth. “But I’d be shitting bricks too.”

“Me three.” Courtney sighed, a cup of coffee in her hand. “I mean, you go through everything, qualifying in a state preliminary, competing for three days here, just to get on stage for a 20% chance that you’ll actually advance and get to show off the stage production you probably spent a ridiculous amount of money on for the 10% chance that you actually win.”

Vanjie hadn’t heard the math broken down before, Courtney delivering it like stone cold facts. 10% was horrifyingly little, and Vanjie had no idea how Brooke had done. Brooke and all the other contestants had received zero feedback from the judges, none of them having any idea where they were actually placed, since everything came down to the judges preferences and tastes. Brooke was essentially existing in a vacuum where he could do nothing but wait, and helplessness had never suited his boyfriend.

“It’s brutal.” Jon nodded. “I nearly choked when I heard how much Brooke had spent.”

Vanjie froze. Had Steve told Jon how much Brooke had spent, did Steve even know? Vanjie had no idea, the fact that he didn’t saving his ass the day before, but now he realised how deeply he desired to know. It was like Pandora's box was almost open, Vanjie needing to know about this part of his boyfriends life.

“How much?” Vanjie asked, his eyes glued to Steve’s face.

Steve bit his lip, looking from side to side, Brooke still at the breakfast table with Aurora. 

“With everything?” Steve took another bite of his food. “If we put it all together, hotels, traveling, preparation, missed booking, rehearsal spaces, paychecks for dancers and staff as well as wardrobe and hair, I think we’re just around 220.000 dollars.”

“WHAT?!”

Vanjie yelled so loudly everyone turned their head, the restaurant growing silent for a beat. 

“What?!” Vanjie hissed, leaning over the table. 

“There is sponsorships of course, and the promoters pay their share so it isn’t all out of pocket, but that’s my best bet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 220.000 dollars was half of an apartment in L.A, more than double what you won on Drag Race.

His Target sock wearing, coupon clipping, secondhand book buying boyfriend had spent 250.000 dollars on a pageant, and had done it with no hesitation.

"He fucking crazy." Vanjie groaned.

“I guess that’s why Brooke is acting so strange.” Courtney took a sip of her coffee. “Having all these people, all that money riding on his.” Courtney shrugged. “Having no idea if you actually get to show any of it, that wait has to be the absolute wors-”

Vanjie felt someone pull the chair next to him, all of them pausing as Brooke sat down, a giant bowl of oatmeal in his hand. 

“-st when there is a cliffhanger in your favorite TV show.” Courtney finished, saving the fact that they had all been gossiping like crazy about Brooke mere seconds ago.

“I hate that bullshit.” Vanjie mumbled, Brooke smiling a little, his face showing something beside quiet sadness or hard determination for the first time that morning. 

“I’m sure you’ll survive waiting for a Kardashian episode big guy.”

Vanjie snorted, Brooke always slamming on his reality TV watching, even though Brooke would watch anything with a dragon in it.

“Y’all just mad cause you can’t follow those magicians you like on social media.” 

“That’s why I read the books.” Vanjie felt Brooke grab his knee under the table, his thumb rubbing back on forth as he ate, everyone chatting about the practice they had planned after breakfast.

///

“This is us.” Brooke pointed, opening the door to dressing room number 3, Jacklyn and Steve rolling in behind him. The room was already filled with other queens, everyone going on stage one after the other for the big walk on. The theme for it had been black tie elegance, so Brooke had chosen a velvet corset in night sky black, with a tulle-embellished skirt that just touched the ground. If he made it to the finale round, there was another set of dressing rooms just on the other side, ten rooms held open for the contestants who made it to the next part of the competition as well as their dancers.

“Here?” Jacklyn stopped next to a mirror, and Brooke nodded, Steve putting his first wig down. 

The entire day had been weird, time moving both painfully slow and so fast Brooke felt like he had barely had time to breath.

“That’s perfect.” Brooke dumped his makeup case, the prospect of settling into Brooke Lynn’s skin soothing his nerves, and he couldn’t wait to slip into the armor that was his drag persona.

///

_ Vanjie is standing outside, the sun shining. “We here at the-” _

_ Vanjie looks around, his head turning left and right. _

_ “Yo, Court, What the name of this place?” _

_ Vanjie is in a black silk shirt, his hair styled with gel, a thick gold chain around his neck and a diamond earring in his ear. _

_ Courtney pops up on screen. _

_ “It’s the Cannon Center for the Performing Arts.” Courtney smiles. Her pink hair is curled, and she’s in a pink satin dress, looking every part an extra from Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion. _

_ “The walk on begins in an hour, and we’re so excited to cheer for Brooke.” _

_ Courtney stubs her cigarette, and Vanjie laughs. _

_ “Camp Hytes to the end baby!” Vanjie pulls at his shirt, the “Camp Hytes” t-shirt on underneath. _

_ “Get your merch if you spot me, cause I still got a fanny pack”, Vanjie claps his back. “full of goodness baby.” _

_ “We also have banners.” Jon smiles brightly. He’s in a black suit, his silver colored hair styled and he unfollows the banner to show it to the chat. “Brooke is hopefully gonna be super embarrassed.” _

_ “He will!” Vanjie laughs. “We got the good seats. Swiped the card the moment I knew my baby was going.” _

_ “We’re literally in the second row.” Courtney smiles, pointing at the camera. “So for all you mega fans out there, make sure to get the DVD and spot us being complete idiots.” _

_ “You know the brand!” Vanjie laughs. _

///

“Number 23?”

“Here!” Brooke held her hand up, everyone standing in a long line in their various dresses, though some weren’t anywhere near finished, the assistant continuing down, calling everyone's numbers and making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be.

///

“Wow…” Vanjie looked around. “This canon ball is dope as fuck.”

It was an actual theater hall, the stage big enough for an entire symphony to perform, the thing even bigger than the Orpheum theater were they filmed the Drag Race finales. 

Courtney laughed. “Cannon Center Vanj, the Cannon Center.”

“Fuck..” Vanjie took his phone out of his fanny pack, snapping a photo of the stage, quickly sending it off to Brooke. Vanjie knew Brooke would probably not see his phone, but he had to tell his baby that he was there, and that he was ready to cheer.

///

Brooke took a deep breath of her cigarette, the smoke curling in her lungs, the stub fitting perfectly between her plump red lips. 

It had been months since she had last smoked, but when one of the other contestants dancers had left for a cigarette, their eyes had met, and Brooke had instantly known they knew who she was, the promise of attempting to calm her nerves with nicotine too good to pass up on, so she had once again cornered a fan for a cigarette, halfway breaking the almost promise she had made Vanjie over and over again.

Brooke breathed out, the smoke slowly escaping from in between her lips. While counting, everyone else had only been in half drag, and Brooke had been completely dressed, her speed for once actively working against her as she was already fully ready with ages to go, Steve and Jacklyn preparing the dancers. That was another reason Brooke had left, the anxious part of her unable to detach from the pure hybris of preparing her performance when she hadn’t even qualified, though it was somewhat soothing that both Jacklyn and Steve believed in her so completely.

“So, you think you’re gonna wi-”

Brooke was just about to look at the dancer, when she felt her phone vibrate, Steve only allowing her to leave if she took her phone with her. 

Brooke looked down at it, her heart almost stopping when she realised Vanjie had sent her a message, her boyfriend writing that he believed in her, followed by a million emojis. Brooke dropped her cigarette, stepping on it, already texting back, her brain barely catching up with her actions.

///

“Brock?” Vanjie called. He had received a text from Brooke to meet him outside, Vanjie for a moment thinking that someone had stolen his phone. The venue was almost full, everyone finding their seats. “You out here?”

Vanjie turned the corner, just to see a glimpse of Brooke before a pair of strong arms grabbed him, Brooke pulling him close, Vanjie feeling soft velvet and steel boening against his cheek as Brooke pressed him to his chest. 

“The fuck you smell like smoke for?”

“Hey.” Brooke whispered, his boyfriend even taller than usual since he was in heels.

“Hey.” Vanjie stood for a second, Brooke finally pulling back, and Vanjie gasped a little. Brooke was truly stunning, her signature blonde hair in a gorgeous updo, her makeup done to perfection in a seductive smokey eye, her lips red, her collar bones sticking out and shining, the dress the stuff Reddit would scream of murdered third husbands about.

“Wow…”

Brooke chuckled, and Vanjie actually focused on her eyes, the blue orbs filled with sadness and anticipation.

“You cool Mami?”

“I just needed to see you…” Brooke bit her lip, almost acting like she was ashamed of her needs. “I… I needed to know that you’ll be there.” Vanjie felt her grip tightening on his shirt, Brooke’s fingers digging into the fabric. “That you were there…”

“Babe.” Vanjie brushed a bit of Brooke’s wig hair to the side. “You ain’t gonna feel no fucking doubt if I’m there,” Vanjie smirked. “I promise you that.” Brooke had never so explicitly told Vanjie she needed him, and it was almost better than the marriage proposal Vanjie knew would never come, but only almost.

“I believe you.” Brooke laughed, the sound the best thing in the entire universe “Promise not to get arrested.”

“I ain’t promising shit.” Vanjie got up on his tiptoes, “cause if you ain’t going to the next round. I got a Puerto Rican salute for those ho ass judges.” Vanjie pulled on Brooke’s top, and she bent down, their lips meeting in a gentle and sweet kiss.

///

“Now, sit back as we prepare to crown our 49th Miss Gay America.” 

Brooke felt her heart beat in her chest. She was standing in the second row to the left, the theater was filled with people. She didn’t look out at them, though she had stomped the runway as she always did when she had been called on, the audience apparently loving her, all clapping and cheering, which made Brooke feel like she had at least accomplished something.

///

“I’m getting ready to announce the top ten. Ladies and gentlemen, this is all in random order-”

“Shit.” 

Vanjie whispered, the host of the night standing at her podium, He had rushed back after kissing Brooke, still floating on the cloud of being able to be there for his boyfriend, Courtney laughing herself silly when she saw the lipstick that had been stuck on his face. 

“These are the ten strongest competitors that have competed since wednesday night here in Memphis, Tennessee. Our top ten will perform their talent presentation, on stage interview and the evening gown competition!”

“Our first finalist, in the top ten, is Nicole Dubois.”

Vanjie’s leg was bouncing up and down, the anticipation growing.

“Our fourth finalist is Pattaya Hart!”

“Here.” Vanjie looked over to see Jon, the man holding out a pack of gum, and Vanjie grabbed a piece, putting it in his mouth, his ADHD thanking the gay jesus for something to do with his mouth.

“To go on, our seventh finalist is Layla LaRue!”

Every number felt like an eternity, Brooke still not called, and Vanjie clenched and unclenched his fist.

“Contestant number nine for the top ten, will be Brooke Lynn Hytes!”

Brooke gasped, breaking out from the row she was standing in, looking like an actual angel as she walked towards the front of the stage and the other finalists.

“YES!” Vanjie stood up, yelling from the top of his lungs. “YES YES YES YES!”

Brooke looked out into the audience, waving and looking every ounce that pageant girl she was.

“That’s my baby!!”

Vanjie saw Brooke’s face breaking into a smile, their eyes locking just before Brooke put a finger over her lips, her eyes sparkling with joy, happiness radiating from her.


	9. Chapter 9

“Thank you, thank you-” Brooke smiled left and right, strangers surrounding her as they all wanted to congratulate her, wanted to touch and tell her how happy they were on her behalf for the fact that she had made it into the top ten. 

“Brooke Lynn!”

Brooke stopped at the familiar voice, one of the main bookers from Texas coming over.

“Hello!” Brooke smiled, forcing her face not to betray any of the anxiety and anticipation she was feeling, the fact that she wasn’t already in costume nagging at her. 

“Tony, how are you?” Brooke gave him a brief hug, thankful in the moment that she had followed Vanjie’s habit of douching herself in perfume, her armpits still damp with the sweat of anticipation and anxiety that she had felt while standing on stage, everyone getting called before her.

“Congratulations!” Tony smiled. “I knew you’d crush it-”

“Thank you-”

“But we wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“... Excuse me?”

“Well,” Tony smirked, holding her hand. “You’re Brooke Lynn Hytes, it’d almost be embarrassing if you didn’t make the top ten, right? We were all talking about it.”

Brooke felt herself froze, her body running cold, a business acuanties so clearly saying to her face that she could have failed. She had seen several promoters around, the amount of business cards she had acquired over the week a fat stack in Steve’s suitcase, and of course she had been talked about, but she hadn’t realised she had been able to disappoint so thoroughly.

“I have to get ready.”

“Of course.” Tony nodded, releasing her. “Break a leg out there!”

///

“Is everyone in their costumes?!” Daniel looked around, the hustle and bustle of the dressing room feeling almost like an opening night backstage at Werq the World. Everyone was humming with anticipation, dancers all dressed in various shades of white, hanging around and buzzing to get on stage.

Daniel had never not expected Brooke to make it, and he was happy with the decision he and Steve had made to get everyone ready when he saw Brooke come backstage, the pure relief and gratitude on the person he had come to think of as a friend worth the risk of everything not working out.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes, is Brooke Lynn Hytes here?”

Daniel spun to see one of the assistants, a thick clipboard in hand.

“Here!” Brooke held up her hand. She was basically naked, only the strange concoction of drag panties and pads covering her up, her hair taped up in what Daniel had learned was called a wig cap.

“You’re number 6 for evening gown and interview” 

The assistant pointed at his papers, and Brooke nodded, her blue eyes filled with a concentration that made Daniel smile, Steve walking up to her side, the other man putting a hand on Brooke’s back. Daniel knew Brooke was nervous about the interview, had heard her practice and had seen her walk in little circles out of pure nerves.

“That’s good.” Daniel heard Steve whisper, the man accepting the papers, as the assistant continued talking.

“And you’re the last one up for talent.”

Daniel felt a smile bloomed on his lips, his expression morphing into a grin as he realised what that meant. If they were last, they were closing down the competition, and Brooke absolutely deserved that.

///

Vanjie felt his phone dig, a nearly endless parade of former Miss Gay America’s walking on stage.

_ Got 6th for interview. Please cheer appropriately. _

Vanjie smiled to himself, Brooke’s short and almost stern message probably reading to everyone else as a scolding, but Vanjie read it for what it was, an acknowledgement that Brooke was probably vibrating out of her skin with anticipation, and that she needed something, anything to distract herself.

_ Love you too. _

///

_ Brooke walks on stage, a slow, regal walk carrying her out on the wooden floor. She is wearing a champagne colored floor length gown with the embellishments on the dress in light shades of pink. Brooke is practically dripping with jewels, her blonde wig only just resting under her ears. _

_ There is a magnitude to her gaze, an almost unnerving quality that makes it impossible to look away as she walks with the grace of a ballerina, her shoulders held like a queen, the tilt of her head making her look like royalty. _

_ Brooke walks to the middle of the stage, stopping and turning to the interviewer, who is waiting for her. _

_ “Hey.” Brooke’s voice is soft, her smile absolutely stunning. _

_ “Hello.” The interviewer smiles back, holding up her microphone. “So, Brooke Lynn Hytes. Contestant number 23” _

_ Brooke nods, clearly listening, her hands folded in front of her. _

_ “What is the area of this competition that you have prepared for the most?” The interview speaks into her microphone, reading from the card in her hand. “One more time?” _

_ Brooke nods.  _

_ “What is the area of this competition that you have prepared for the most?” _

_ Brooke takes the microphone, their hands touching for a brief moment. _

_ “Good evening everybody.” Brooke holds the microphone to her lips, her hand holding it delicately, her voice a little breathless, light and airy, though there is a tinge of nervousness in it. “I hope everybody is having a great evening.” Brooke raises her hand, waving quickly. _

_ The audience claps lightly, and Brooke smiles, one section clapping a whole lot lighter than everybody else. _

_ “The area of this competition that I prepared for the most.” Brooke takes a deep breath, her hand resting on her chest. _

_ “Would have to be this part.” Brooke looks out into the audience. “On stage interview.” _

_ Brooke takes a brief break, before she continues speaking.  _

_ “I am a performer, I have been a dancer all my life, so I never had to speak, I only had to dance, and let my body do the talking for me, so this is something I find difficult.” _

_ Someone cheers, and Brooke smiles, but shakes her head gently.  _

_ “I have carried many a crown already, those legacies weighing heavily on my head. Along the way, I have had to learn how to express myself more clearly and eloquently-” Brooke takes a short break, clearly thinking over her words.  _

_ “Speaking does not come natural to me, and it’s been a real challenge for me, but-”  _

_ Brooke loses her trail of thought for a second. _

_ “It think it’s going really well?”  _

_ Brooke pauses for a moment, and then she’s giggling, her face breaking with joy, the audience clapping and woohing, everyone clearly loving the fact that she messed up. _

_ “It is something I continue to work on, expressing my feelings and my emotions with my mouth- Not just my body.” _

_ The audience laughs, and Brooke smiles again, the easy and happy mood carrying over, even though she clearly attempts to turn it more serious. _

_ “I’m incredibly lucky to have a partner, who has taught me more about words than any preparation ever could.” Brooke looks into the audience. “He forces me outside of my comfort zone every single day, so I guess…” Brooke paused. “I know that interview is the part of the competition that I have prepared for the most, and that I owe him so very much.”  _

_ The interviewer smiles, and holds out her hand to take the microphone. _

_ “Thank you very much.” _

_ Brooke smiles, handing it over, waving to the audience as she walks off stage. _

///

“Here.”

Vanjie barely even realised that Courtney was handing him a kleenex, his cheeks soaked with tears. 

“Fuck.”

Vanjie took it, wiping his face, another queen setting up for their production talent, the lineup alternating between evening gown and the numbers they had prepared from home.

Brooke had mentioned him on stage, and Vanjie had no idea what to do with himself. He had no idea how he would survive watching Brooke’s talent, his heart stopping when Brooke had been asked what she had prepared for the most, his brain racing for an answer, watching as the man he loved the most in the world had managed to recover and deliver something that was so quintessential Brooke, even as she had faltered.

“Smile.”

Vanjie looked up, just to see Courtney holding her phone, the flash going off as she took a picture.

///

Steve watched as Brooke inhaled smoke into her lungs, a cigarette between her fingers. 

He was holding Brooke’s phone, the iPhone buzzing away with messages every two seconds, Brooke’s answer traveling like wildfire. Miss Gay America wasn’t supposed to be filmed, the DVD coming out afterwards, the pageant in part relying on sales from their digital copies, but if you asked Steve, it was an antiquated practice. 

“You okay?”

“Mmmh…” Brooke took another drag, her costume for talent making the entire scene almost bizarre. “Let me just finish and I’ll-”

“Kill it?”

Brooke smiled slightly. “Be ready.”

Pattaya had done wonderfully as well, that queen the only other contender Steve could see with a chance to knock Brooke down, even though his best friend had nearly been panicking when she came off stage, Brooke convinced that she had screwed everything up, but the audience had laughed with her, and had clearly enjoyed Brooke’s little misstep a whole lot more than the pure, boring and predictable pageant answers some of her competitors had given.

The pageant needed someone like Brooke, someone who could give it a new audience, who could bring in viewers and ticket buys, clubgoers who would come to watch because it was a queen they related to and cared for that took the stage. 

Steve felt his own phone vibrate, his eyebrows rising as he fished it out of his pocket, a text from Courtney ticking in. Steve opened it, a snort leaving him that made his shoulders shake.

“What?” Brooke looked over. “What? Steve you better tell me right fucking no-”

“Let me show you.” Steve smiled, turning his phone, Brooke’s face transforming from worried, to concerned, to a harsh, happy laugh that forced it’s way out of her body as she started to laugh so hard she was practically hiccuping, Courtney sending a picture of Jose that was crying so hard he had a snot bubbles coming out of his nose.

///

_ The curtain pulls, the stage empty and dark as the opening tones of “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now” by Celine Dion starts to play, but it’s not the official version, the song instead filled with a rage and a sadness that fits perfectly, the music so much more dramatic. _

_ The light turns on, and Brooke is standing in the middle of the stage in a wedding dress, a bouquet in hands. _

** _There were nights when the wind was so cold_ **

_ Brooke walks toward on stage, her skirt moving and it’s visible she’s pointe shoes. _

** _There were days when the sun was so cruel_ **

_ Brooke curls the bouquet in her hands, the flower petals falling to the ground, her entire body moving as she sings along. _

** _I finished crying in the instant that you left_ **

_ Brooke throws the bouquet, a shower of white around her. _

** _And I can't remember where or when or how_ **

_ A flock of dancers come on stage, rushing around Brooke. _

** _And I banished every memory you and I had ever made! _ **

_ The dancers rip Brooke’s wedding dress off, the dress coming off in two parts down the middle, and she’s now wearing a red satin dress. The light turns on, and on the edge of the stage, a man walks in, in a black Tuxedo, the two of them standing out against everyone else in their bold colors. _

** _But when you touch me like this _ **

_ Daniel grips Brooke by her hip, the two of them spinning around. _

** _And when I hold you like that _ **

_ Brooke’s leg grips Daniel’s hip, the two of them dancing an intimate dance together that look like two young lovers meeting for the first time, their moves tender and caring. _

** _There were moments of gold._ **

_ Brooke pushes away, and the two of them chases each other across the stage, acting like the sea, pushing and pulling _

** _There were things I’d never do again_ **

_ Daniel catches Brooke’s hand, and he throws her, Brooke flying across the stage, the other dancers catching her and throwing her back. _

** _Baby baby_ **

_ Daniel grabs Brooke’s hips, and lifts her up, Brooke looking as light as a feather. _

** _It was so long ago, but it’s all coming back to me, noooooooow_ **

_ They spin together, the bridge of the song felt in your bones.  _ _ Daniel throws Brooke into the middle of the stage, and everyone steps away, leaving her alone. _

** _When you tried to hurt me, I just hurt you even worse and so much deeper._ **

_ Brooke serenades, standing in one spot, the gravity and pure power of the ballade she’s lip syncing incredible. _

** _And I never wasted any of my time on you since then!_ **

_ Brooke points, standing tall, every word felt as she gives herself completely over to the music. _

** _But when I touch you like this_ **

_ All the dancers come back on stage, Daniel as well, a quick costume change putting him in white pants and a white open shirt, Brooke now the only one in color on stage. _

** _It was so long ago_ **

_ Brooke walks over to Daniel _

** _But it’s all coming back to me_ **

_ Brooke touches Daniel’s face, the woman clearly leading their dance as the chorus floods the stage. _

** _There were nights of endless pleasure_ **

_ Brooke and Daniel are spinning, Brooke lifting Daniel too, the two of them moving together frantically and erratically, a broken romance blooming between them. _

** _It’s all coming back to me noooooooow!_ **

_ The dancers gather around them, blocking them from the audience view. _

** _If I forgive you all this, and I forgive you all that._ **

_ The dancers all put out electric candle sticks, lighting them up. _

** _We forgive and forget, and it’s all coming back to me._ **

_ They step aside, and Brooke and Daniel are lying on the floor, Daniel’s head in Brooke’s lap. _

** _I can barely recall._ **

_ Brooke looks out on the audience, her lips moving _

** _But it’s all coming back to me now._ **

_ The dancers ‘sing’ the chorus, and Brooke kisses Daniel, bending over him, the curtain closing around them. _

_ /// _

Vanjie was frozen in place, his throat dry. Brooke had been perfection, selling the entire performance with a conviction, a belief, pure talent, and Vanjie had been mesmerised from start to finish, his eyes not loving Brooke once. It was one of the most beautiful things Vanjie had ever seen, and it felt like his heart had been broken into a million pieces from pure love.

///

Brooke was hugging Daniel, the two of them so tightly together they were basically one person, their hearts beating together, sweat and exhaustion mixing, but they had done it, all of their hard work paying off, and Brooke was so happy, so grateful that she felt like she could die.

“Thank you…” 

Brooke looked at Daniel, who simply looked back, a giant smile on his face, sweat on his brow.

“Thank you yourself…”

///

“If our top ten could place take their places!”

Vanjie could feel his heart attempt to beat out of his throat, Brooke changed into her last gown of the evening, standing in front of everyone together with the rest of the top ten, all of them holding each others hands. Brooke looked like a european princess in a shining silver dress, her hair big and pageant perfection. 

“And now we will announce the top five for tonight!”

Vanjie grabbed Courtney’s hand, the two of them grabbing each other so hard they could barely feeling anything, Brooke not getting called for fifth, fourth or even third place.

“Shit…” Vanjie whispered, nausea washing over him. Brooke looked regal, her stature perfectly poised, though Vanjie had no idea how she wasn’t throwing up from stress.

“She’ll make it. She has to.”

“Our first runner up, goes to-”

Vanjie wanted to die.

“Pattaya Hart!”

The audience clapped and cheered, Pattaya stepping forwards to receive the audience appreciation.

“And now, we would like to announce our winner. Please welcome, The Miss Tennessee representative, Brooke Lynn Hytes as your new Miss Gay America!”

Brooke froze, her eyes going wide, and she smiles, her hand in front of her mouth as she cries.

“Yes!!!!” Vanjie stood up, yelling so loudly he was scared he popped a lung, everyone flocking around Brooke, the queen kneeling as she was crowned, Courtney snapping away on her camera.

“YES!!!”

Brooke stood up, the new crown looking correct, perfect, like it belonged on her head, and Brooke walked forward, waving to everyone as the applause continued, her smile so big and pure and bright, and Vanjie had never loved her more than at that very moment, their eyes meeting, and Vanjie knew he wanted to be by Brooke’s side forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to ThankyoumissVanjie for all of your support, and thank you to all of you for reading along!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Thankyoumissvanjie for championing this, listening to my brainstorms, and for watching the Pageant documentary with me!


End file.
